


I could help Rose Tyler with her Homework

by greenfairy13



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenfairy13/pseuds/greenfairy13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven meets Rose and figures out that he will eventually meet a younger Rose. Despite knowing how their story has to end, he jumps right in. Some things are worth getting your heart broken for...or not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Professor Smith

**Author's Note:**

> This is a plot bunny that keeps hunting me for quite a while now. Shall I carry on with that? Comments are king!

"Professor Smith," A familiar voice calls out, a voice with the power to shake him to his core.

He recognizes that voice immediately. As if he could ever forget the sound of that voice. This sound is burnt into his mind and not even the merciless stream of time can erase the memory of this voice from his memory. Yet, he didn't expect to hear her voice again. It's a mistake to hear her and he throws some cash at the table, stands up and wants to leave. Well - fleeing is the more accurate term but it's too late. As usually. The Time Lord always runs out of time. It's quite ironic to think about it.

The music gets louder. He's a wee bit dizzy from the alcohol. Even Time Lords feel something after having an entire bottle of vodka. Lousy Earth-booze: he has to drink ridiculous amounts to stone his brilliant brain out. The place smells bad to his superior senses: human arousal, spilled beer, cigarettes and from the loo drifts the smell of vomit into his nostrils. It's forgotten when she approaches and the well-known scent of her coconut-vanilla shampoo fills his nose and blocks the other odours out. He has bought her the shampoo. To him hundreds of years have past since that day. To her? Not more than a few weeks, if not only days.

Speaking of ironic: the song they are currently playing couldn't be more fitting and the Doctor wants to bark out with laughter. Wants to roll around on the floor holding his stomach.

"Hey Ya" is banging out of the speakers but it's not the cheerful, carefree version from Outkast. No, it's a cover version he knows because she made him watch the series that used this specific version of the song in one of the episodes. "Scrubs" the series is called and he remembers laughing with her over the main character: a clueless, clumsy doctor. A guy in love with his blonde colleague all the time but never admitting his feelings properly until it's almost too late. But only almost, cause at the end the doctor from the TV-show gets the girl and they get their happily ever after.

For him it's definitely too late.

Happily ever after.

He loves to picture her happily ever after. In Norway,with the him who used to wear Converse and pinstriped suits and brainy specs, not because he needed them, but because they made him look even more clever. He was very vain in this body: with his beautiful face, the great messy chocolate-brown hair (always artfully tousled) and big, warm eyes of the same colour and a slim but muscular body. Women fell so easily for him at that time and he loved it - all the attention and the compliments. It was nice being seductive and sexy, being able to wrap people around his little finger. She wasn't meant to fall for him.

The girl standing at the entrance and calling for some Professor Smith was meant to have a fantastic life, but instead she fell for a nine-hundred year old alien from a planet that doesn't exist any more. She dedicated her life to him.

He loved to flirt in his previous body. The flirting was not always harmless though. Sometimes humans fell in love with his former self. With his gorgeous face and his gob, his brilliance and rudeness. He's still rude but doesn't look quite as fit any more. Women don't haul themselves like that at him nowadays (or he is better keeping them at distance). Maybe it's not even this body. He is still handsome and still has great hair and nice eyes (green now) and looks even younger, as if he wasn't even thirty. Maybe it's the respectable outfit he goes in now: bow-ties and tweed jackets don't exactly scream "fuck me".

He stops musing and focuses on the music instead. "Hey Ya" is supposed to be cheerful but the cover version sounds so sad. The tunes are tugging at the strings of his hearts and reminding him that nothing is meant to stay or to last.

His life had been too long and the girl that just came through the doors of the pub loved him once sincerely and yet she broke her promise: she didn't stay with him but left.

She tried to come back - he gives her that. She really did everything in her power to come to him but she failed at the end. He can't blame her. He failed himself so often, he lost count.

My baby don't mess around  
Because she loves me so  
And this I know for sure  
Uh, but does she really wanna?  
But can't stand to see me  
Walkin' out the door  
Don't try to fight the feelin'  
Cause the thought alone is killing me right now

But separate's always better when there's feeling involved  
If what they say nothing is forever  
Then what makes,what makes, what makes love the exception?

He stops humming to the song. Love is no exception. Not per se. The love might last forever but love is not enough. It doesn't make sure that the one's who are meant to be together are together — love makes the inevitable farewell only a thousand times worse. He knows that. If he knows nothing at all, he at least knows that loving what is doomed to fade hurts.

"Professor Smith!" the voice calls out again. It belongs to a young blonde woman in her early twenties. She is no natural blonde but he can't picture her any other way than with dyed hair. Her eyes have the colour of chestnut-honey and she has voluptuous pink lips. Very kissable. She isn't skinny but curved in all the perfect places. But she was always perfect to him. Today, she is dressed in tight jeans and a very tight shirt. She's wearing high heels instead of trainers which means she doesn't expect running for her life this night. Little does she know, what monster is sitting here among the humans.

The blonde in question, the one calling for the Professor, has once been his colleague. Sort of. He referred to her as companion, mate or as friend but never as lover. He is a coward and as such, he doesn't speak out loud what he really thinks and feels - that only would make the things he inevitably looses too real.

She is now heading for him. "Professor Smith!" The girl looks directly into his eyes and smiles.

His mouth is agape and he doesn't know how to answer because he has no clue why she recognises this body.

"Rose Tyler." He says her name with so much emotion, she blushes slightly. "Long time no see."

He tries avoiding her eyes but fails and falls into that warm golden light he loves so much, he wants to leave and run into the safety of his TARDIS. Wants to take her hand and take her with him. Reapers and the end of the universe be damned.

"Been busy." She answers with a chuckle and the tip of her tongue is visible. "I'm so happy to see you, Professor. I've finally gotten my A-levels." Now she is beaming proudly and he frowns. He doesn't remember her getting the A-levels.

"That's great," he tells her with a warm smile.

"It is,isn't it? I'm currently travelling with...well...a friend and I attended courses over the internet." She shrugs and makes a dismissive gesture and he knows she thinks attending courses over internet doesn't count in his eyes. A fact he has to rectify.

"I'm very proud of you, Rose Tyler." But for the love of God he has no clue what he has to do with her A-levels.

"Would have never made it, if not for you,Professor. Thank you for helping me with my homework, after I've been dropped out of school," Rose adds and he feels like as if she dropped a bucket of ice-water over his head. He has not been helping her with anything yet. Which means he will at one point go back to her and play tutor. A growl escapes his mouth. Bloody self-fulfilling paradox. He schools his expressions carefully into a mask of indifference.

"So you are travelling?"

"Yes-for a bit more than a year now." So she's with the pinstriped him already. Good to know.

"Seen anything interesting?"

"You have no idea." Her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm but there is sadness too. It must have been one of the days when not everybody survived.

"So I take it you'll continue travelling for a while?" At the question her face falls.

"I don't know. Maybe it's time to grow up,yeah? Got my A-levels now I could as well start studying, get a job, support mum..." Her thoughts trail off and she stares at his empty glass.

"Why would anyone give up the opportunity to travel?" He makes sure to ask very carefully. Not to sound alerted or petrified.

She shrugs, takes a sip from her beer and tilts her head."Are we still friends,Professor? I mean...I know you didn't...or couldn't...back then when...you know?" Her face is bright pink now and he has absolutely no idea what she's talking about so he silences her by squeezing her trembling hands.

"I'll always be your friend if you need one." He reassures her quickly and she lets out a sigh.

"The man I travel with...I'm his assistant." Taking another sip from her beer she tries to decide what she wants to tell him and blurts out. "Never have I met such a man before. Someone who makes me feel so important and precious. Every day with him is an adventure and he takes me to places no one here even knows about. Like you know-living in a fairytale or a dream. It's a hell of a roller-coaster and every second is worth more than an entire year of normal life..."

"So, why do you want to stop being this man's assistant?"

She hesitates and he is holding his breath too. If he mucks this up, his entire past might change and she might not return to the TARDIS. "Don't laugh, Professor. This man...I love him and I was so naïve cause he makes everyone feel so special. As if I'd have been the first person to travel with him but I realised I'm really just his assistant but you know...I hoped." She growls. "You must think I'm so stupid."

The Doctor is at loss of words. Rose wanted to leave him? When? Why?

"I'd never think you're stupid." The words are sincere and Rose feels that too. "Look at you! You're brilliant. This man would be a fool if he wouldn't love you in return!"

"Professor, I'm a chav. This man is a genius, highly educated, brilliant in every way and I have really no idea why he took me for the ride but I know I'm not his cup of tea. We travelled together for a year now and me and him...we have always been flirting a bit. Nothing more and I thought...well I thought he just likes to take his time. That he wants to be sure."

"So what made you change your mind?"

"I saw him falling in love in the time of five hours," Rose replies flatly and he quirks an eyebrow. "We went to France and he met a woman. Reinette. She was beautiful, educated, sexy, had an incredible sense of style and could read his thoughts...you know what I mean? She was everything I was not and he wanted to bring her along, take her with us travelling but it ended so badly and he was so heart-broken."

"Nobody can fall in love in the time of five hours. You might call something like that a little fascination." He feels uneasy,unsure what to say and how to mend the situation. His past could very well change if he says the wrong thing.

"He forgot me while he was with her and left me waiting at a foreign place. Things got really uncomfortable but still he left me just there,Professor. I thought this man was at least my friend but...this woman was intoxicating. I could see that myself but he just left me and my friend waiting for hours. I don't mean anything to that man." Rose finishes and her eyes look watery.

The Doctor flinches inwardly. Reinette had not exactly been his finest moment in history and he honestly has no better excuses for the French courtesan than any ordinary human man.

Back then, he had already been in love with his human girl and that thought had been truly frightening. She was human and therefore bound to age, to fade within only a couple of years.

Humans are brittle little creatures. Their life-expectancy is short compared to a Time Lord and travelling with him is dangerous. The promise he had given Jackie to keep Rose safe, had not exactly been a lie but certainly not the truth either. The moment she had set her feet aboard the TARDIS her life had been in danger.

He knew his time with her would be too short and when he began feeling more than simple friendship towards her, he had begun pushing her away. Hoping she would stop feeling attracted to him, he had taken Mickey for the ride.

And then came Reinette. Beautiful, sexy and slightly telepathic. She had shortly filled the silence in his head and offered to give him what he wanted and craved: a relationship without promises and commitment. She had put him on a pedestal and called him the lonely God. He had been fluttered. The girl who had been trained to please men had caressed his ego and ignored his flaws.

She had not been the woman he needed, but she had been able to fulfil his needs. Reinette had been a rush of decadence, want and desire. Countless Banana Daiquiris later she had pushed him into her bedroom and he had given in and taken what she had offered him so willingly. He felt like being a rock-star and Reinette had been his willing groupie.

His mind had sobered immediately when he had returned to the space-ship, finding Rose and Mickey strapped down to examination tables about to be sliced into pieces.

And he? He had been dancing and shagging in the meantime and returned with his tie around his head, his clothing rumpled and smelling of another woman.

No, he had never deserved Rose. Maybe he should let her leave him? Change his time line and her faith?

He can't do it. He needs her. Wants her. She is his and she has proved being his countless times.

He reaches over the table and pulls her into his lap. Rose is surprised and gasps, not having expected the manoeuvre.

"I bet you could save the universe," he tells her and shoves his tongue into her mouth. His kiss is wanting and possessive. It's need and loneliness and the desire for the woman he has to have in his life to keep him grounded. He needs her back and if he can only have this one night, he will take it.

 


	2. ...if you want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my amazing Beta RT.  
> Please leave a review and thank you for reading!

Rose responds immediately to his kiss. Whether it's instinct, or a reflex, or a crush on the soon-to-be-created Professor Smith he doesn't know - doesn't care.

 

He's finally kissing Rose Tyler. Not Cassandra, not the Bad Wolf, but the human woman who became so precious to him. It feels so right...and oh, so wrong. But Rose Tyler is kissing Professor Smith and again nothing is as it should be.

 

He wants to slow down time, wants this night last forever and a millennia of self-restraint starts cracking by the intensity of _her_ kiss. All he can think about it shoving the glasses and bottles from the table and taking her right there because this might be the last chance to give in. He never told her how he feels and the chance to say it out loud is gone and what remains is regret.

 

Amy and Rory are his current travelling companions and after having encountered the Dream Lord, both needed a rest. It humours him how sanctimoniously he was when he told Amy to admit her feelings to Rory. How he insisted on the importance of confessing her love when he has never been able to say it out loud. “ _Quite right, too”_ and _“Does it need saying?”_ have been the only two sentences ever to leave his lips. It needed saying; he knows that now and it's too late. As always.

 

She breaks away in need for air. Her eyes are hooded, filled with desire and he can almost smell her arousal. “We should move this to a more private location,” Rose suggests and he couldn't approve more.

 

They leave the place inseparably entangled, touching, kissing, grabbing for every inch of skin their hands can reach. He pulls her along to a cheap hotel he spotted on his way to the little pub. The man at the desk immediately knows what they are here for and hands him a key without asking unnecessary questions, it isn't his job to judge his clients.

 

Neither of them speaks for the next hour and he is grateful for it. Usually, his gob is running at reckless speed but this night is better enjoyed in silence. Later, she lies on his bare chest and nuzzles his neck and he thinks she might fall asleep. “Doctor,” she breathes into his ear and it's spoken so softly, he knows she is giving him the opportunity to pretend he didn't hear it.

 

The Time Lord's body stiffens and his grip around her hip tightens. “How did you know?” he asks eventually.

 

“Double pulse,” Rose replies and kisses his throat.

 

“Ah.” They are silent again and his grip loosens. She walks into the en-suite to take a shower and he wonders, if she expects him to leave in the meantime.

 

The tension in the dark room when she returns almost hurts physically. One of them has to say something, anything or they might start yelling to break this uncomfortable spell. It's Rose who speaks first and she finds the right words, as always.

 

“You didn't just break your neck under the console and decided to surprise me, did you?”

 

The Doctor laughs out loud, “No-nothing such undignified.”

 

“Good. I just got used to your new face.”

 

“Regeneration usually sends my companions running. You're dealing amazingly well with it.”

 

“Yeah? Well, this night makes me wonder if I'm a usual companion.” Rose gives him her patent smile, tongue caught between her teeth, and sits down on the bed.

 

“Nothing about you is usual,” he tells her and strokes her face. “I missed you.”

 

Clearing her throat she shots him a scrutinizing look and he feels as if he has never before been assessed like this. “I have to go home,” she tells him, “to the TARDIS,” she clarifies when she sees his alarmed expression.

 

“We have all night...if you want.”

 

“You know I want you.”

 

“My younger self is currently busy bothering the TARDIS with unnecessary repair-work and brooding, hidden under the console. I'll be worried for you, if you don't return early.”

 

Her face darkens in anger. “You are the height of narcissism. Are you honestly suggesting to make your younger self jealous with yourself?” Rose snorts disbelievingly. “You fell pretty hard for Reinette, didn't you?”

 

“Reinette?” he asks, obviously caught off guard. He hasn't been thinking about her since they left the pub.

 

“Pretty convenient.” Her voice is flat, cold-totally un-Rose like.

 

“What?” He has a hard time following Rose's train of thought.

 

“Time travel,” she clarifies. “It's convenient. You fancy a girl and jump back and forth in time as it pleases you. Why are you here, Doctor? To hinder me nagging younger you, who is currently acting like a prat? Or because you knew I'd never deny you anything? Does it humour you how much I feel for you?” Her expression is unreadable but her voice nearly cracks.

 

“H-h-how can you honestly think of me like that?” he stutters out, now completely appalled.

 

“Tell me. First, Sarah Jane: you just dropped her off, never to return again. Is this my future? Ending up as an embittered alien-hunter, longing for a blue-box and a time-travelling alien? You made her promises you couldn't keep and she believed you. I believe you too...always will, even when I know you're obviously lying.”

 

“Quite right, too,” he smirks but stops smiling when he realises she can't know yet what he really wants to say. The thing is, he believes her too. Believes her every time she promises to stay with him forever, even when he knows she can't keep her promise, no matter how much she wants to.

 

“Why? Why did you spend the night with me? What am I to you?” Her tone is accusing and he can't blame her. She feels used, betrayed and hurt. The Doctor's anger flares as his mood shifts. He didn't forced her to come along with him, seducing her took him only seconds. She didn't even knew who he was and yet, she was willing to jump into bed with him.

 

“It wasn't hard to convince you coming along. What am I to you? Another pretty boy?” The moment he has spoken the words out loud, he regrets them. Her mouth snaps shut and reaching out to grab her bag she turns to leave.

 

“No!” He blocks the door with his body, still naked, he feels exceptionally vulnerable. He wanted to make this right but manages to mess up again. Scooting his hand through his hair he groans in frustration. “Don't leave. Don't _ever_ leave me.” The word “ever” is drawn out, punctuated and his eyes beg for understanding.

 

“Why? What do you need me for?” The bag is still in her hands but her body isn't turned towards the door any more.

 

Biting his lips he considers the question. There are too many answers and none of them would make her understand how desperately he wants her in his life, misses her and how it pains him that he has given her up. When she called him the height of narcissism, she couldn't have been more right. He is the only man he wants her to be with and he envies his human-self every day. How ridiculous come to think of it: his woman cheats on him and it is always with himself.

 

“I just need you,” he tells her brokenly and moves towards the chair to grab his pants in a futile attempt to regain some dignity.

 

Rose sits down on the chair next to the window and watches him wearily as she speaks, “I wasn't serious when I told you I considered leaving earlier. I would never leave you willingly.”

 

“I know,” he whispers.

 

“So...this night? Did I die?” she asks curiously.

 

“No,” the Doctor answers without hesitation.

 

“Did you leave me behind?”

 

“No,” and after a moment he adds, “Not really.”

 

“So I left you?” Her voice is incredulous.

 

“No,” and again he adds, “Not really.”

 

Rose huffs in frustration. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You'll find out soon enough. You know I can't tell you.”

 

“And what now?”

 

“I suppose...you go back to me. To my younger self and keep travelling.”

 

“Until it all ends, yeah?”

 

“Rose, everything ends.”

 

“But I promised you forever. Why will I have to break my promise?” Her eyes are filled with tears and he can't stand to see her like this and does what he always does when he runs out of answers - he gives her a tight hug. “You came back for me. You really came back for me.”

 

“Always. I'll always come back for you. Don't ever doubt that.”

 

Sobering up she looks into his eyes and can't help asking, “Would you tell me though what happened between you and Reinette? We were so close before you met Sarah Jane and I don't understand why you are acting so weird lately.”

 

The question makes him angry. There is so little time left and she really wants to have a domestic? Self-righteous anger and rage bubble up in his stomach: rage, because the universe yanks away from him everyone who ever mattered, because there are too many farewells, because he will eventually be dragged toward a woman he hardly knows and doesn't trust. Anger, because Rose is in his arms and locked away in a parallel universe at the same time and he can never have what he wants. The urge to push her away, like he always does when she comes too close, surfaces again and he wants to hurt her. Wants to punish her for being mortal and human and leaving him for himself in the future.

 

“I fucked her,” he answers monotonously. “That's what happened between me and Reinette.”

 

“Why?” Rose's voice is surprisingly steady, without any hidden judgement.

 

“Because I could do it without any consequences for me, at least that's what I thought. But I went back to fulfil my promise, to give her a trip in the TARDIS to find out she has died. Just like you humans do.” He speaks the word “humans” with unusual despise.

 

“You really hate us stupid apes for living such short lives, don't you?” Rose grins teasingly and the solemn mood shifts. Her understanding, trust and compassion for him will never stop to amaze him.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

“Doctor, don't travel alone. Is there someone at your side right now?” He just hurt her twice: by cheating on her with Reinette and by coming back wearing another new face and searching consolidation in her warm embrace. Instead of pushing him out of her life, she is worried for him and he thinks he really doesn't deserve her.

 

“I'm not alone. Amy and Rory, a lovely couple, are with me.”

 

“A couple? How domestic,” Rose teases him.

 

“Oh, Rose Tyler - you make me domestic. Watch it, you might even turn me into a human one day!”

 

Bursting into a fit of giggles she agrees with him, “For someone who's constantly pointing out how alien he is, you really can act like a common bloke.”

 

The Doctor spends the rest of the night showing her how human he indeed can be. They watch an old film, order pizza and chips and make love. He wonders if his human-self just does the same in another universe. He hopes so, because for once he doesn't feel like running, neither from something or toward something, right now, he is at home.

 

The night doesn't last forever and they part in the morning. Both head back to a TARDIS and kissing her, he decides that this night won't be the last opportunity to spend time with Rose Tyler. He'll come back as often as the universe will let him, he'll bid farewell to her again and again until he can't take it anymore or the pain finally subsides.

 


	3. Keeping you at bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big hug for my wonderful Beta RT!
> 
> Please leave a comment after reading.

“Hello, Boss,” Mickey the idiot mumbles with a yawn and strolls casually through the TARDIS' doors. He's a bit late but the Doctor is quite frankly amazed he made it back to the time-ship at all. The young mechanic suffers, judged by the red-rimmed eyes and odours he's emanating, from a massive hang-over.

 

Why again, has he allowed Mickey to travel with him and Rose? Right. Keeping distance. It's not as if he needs the tin-dog to keep Rose at bay. He's doing a fantastic job at that himself, thank you very much. To be honest, he wonders if he has finally managed to overdraw the bow.

 

After having spent the entire night hidden under the console, busy with nothing in case Rose comes back and has a go at him, he feels brawlsome and filthy. His beloved suit is crinkled and oil-stained. Well, it's not really oil but a chemical connection of liquid minerals from Naboo, which cannot be mixed with water and are therefore in their characteristics similar enough to common oil...Oh – he's trailing off.

 

Now, where was he? Right. Rickey is late and he feels pent-up, overtired and wants to move, leave, _run away_. Running is good, running keeps sane, keeps him from thinking about feeling filthy and French courtesans and feeling filthy because of dead French courtesans to whom he couldn't keep promises. 

 

His stomach twists in guilt. Poor naïve Reinette fell for him head over heels. She was so hopeful when he promised her a trip to see the stars but the Time Lord had run out of time again and Reinette died. Bad luck. The universe's sick sense of humour. Another casualty. Okay, not a casualty but... “I am rambling in my own head,” he chides himself eventually.

 

Reneitte, the reminder. He grins at the thought. She had known him for almost her entire life, he had known her for a couple of hours. It's an analogy: only one day for you, an entire life for me. Not a fair deal, right? Reinette was totally bewitched, elf-lock-stricken, enthralled with him.  _“My lonely angel,”_ she called him but he is far from being an angel. He's not even a fallen angel but a doctor.  _The_ Doctor. He wants to make it right, wants to mend this screwed-up universe and makes it only worse sometimes – just like a proper doctor. “Surgery was a success, the patient has deceased,” they say. 

 

He could have snorted at the thought of being an angel. Him, who sent Gallifrey, the Time Lords and the Daleks to hell in the blink of an eye. The idea of being regarded as such an innocent god-like being had been appealing nevertheless and a whole lot of drinks later, with his pants pushed down and a blonde on top of him (not  _the_ blonde), fantasizing had become easy. Until reality came crushing down: she withered and died within a day. The story of humans. Imagine that happen to somebody you ... Yeah, that will be  _worse_ . 

 

He wonders if he has succeeded at last. Maybe, he has finally scared her away. 

 

They watched her planet burn - she refers to it as a date and likes to remember the chips instead. They met her deceased father (of all the days he could have chosen, he picks the one her father gets hit by a car and makes her watch him die twice and has a go at her for pushing him aside) – she blames herself for the reapers later. He sent her away - she swallowed time and saved him. They met Sarah Jane; he managed to make her feel insignificant. 

 

He shagged a French courtesan (Oh, that might be it! 21 st century women and their concept of romance.). 

 

Some part in him tells him to be grateful and to stop acting like a prat. It's not an everyday occurrence to be loved by someone so deeply, entirely. By someone, who generously decides not to ignore, but to accept the flaws. It's really, really a shame she's somewhat like a mayfly. If he gives in, if he follows through and stops hurting her deliberately, he won't be able to run anymore. That's the one adventure he can't have; can't allow himself to have – the standstill. How is he supposed to stand still anyways? With all this blood on his hands? How is he supposed to accept so much love only to lose it later? If she leaves him, he could blame her and get over it. At least that's what he wants to believe.

 

“Where's Rose?” he asks Mickey. The young man is still standing in the console-room, watching the Time Lord awkwardly during his internal monologue.

 

“She ain't back? I'm gonna get some sleep then. Been a hell of a night, boss.”

 

The Doctor rolls his eyes in annoyance. “She was with you.”

 

“Yeah, met her old tutor and left. Professor Smith. That guy was weird. Not even thirty but always dressed like fresh from the 1950s. Used to look at Rose as if she was the holy grail. Used to _leer_ at her. Gratefully, he disappeared around the same time as Jimmy did.”

 

“And if he was that weird, you just left her with him?” The Doctor asks accusingly.

 

“She can handle them Synthax-things, she can handle a bloke.” Mickey shrugs. “Besides – he's just such a matchstick as you.”

 

“Oi! I'm not a matchstick. And it's Sycorax, Mickey. They're called Sycorax.”

 

“Whatever.” With that said, he leaves the room for some extra sleep and the Doctor dives back under the console.

 

It's not as if he cares about Rose spending the night out. She's free to do whatever she wants – like hanging out with her _tutor_.

 

That's what he wants, isn't it? Rose going out, meeting someone, turning away from him, giving up on her childish amorousness with him. Suddenly, it hits him hard - she's only twenty. A proper child, oblivious to the dangers he puts her through and her feelings for him are hardly more than a little crush, some fascination – nothing to be taken serious; and if she has really just spent the night with some professor it means she doesn't love him. He got it all wrong and everything's fine and one day she'll leave and he can move on like he always does.

 

So, why is he bothered? A little voice in his mind tells him to track down Professor Smith to show him a black hole from the inside. _Professor Smith –_ how ridiculous. He's the _Doctor._ A brilliant genius, the destroyer of worlds, the oncoming storm and she goes out and let's herself get seduced by some mediocre professor? When she could have been aboard the TARDIS? A ship capable of travelling through space and time?

 

But she does love her pretty boys and admitted her flirting saved his life once or twice. Her super-nova smile could melt the grimmest aliens. It melted him and he wants that smile directed at him, only him; not at all these Jacks, Adams and Mickeys but at him. Rose, the flirt of all of time and space, was his and only his.

 

He grits his teeth when she finally enters the TARDIS and his hope that she didn't do anything inappropriate last night shatters.

 

Rose is thoroughly rumpled: she's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, her hair is a mess, she smells like cheap soap, there's no make-up on her face and he is pretty sure that the piece of lace sticking out of her bag belongs to her bra.

 

“Enjoyed your night out?” he asks with a fake smile and watches her face intently. She's staring at him as if she'd just discovered the Amber Room. Her grin is totally self-pleased and therefore unnerving. It doesn't last long though – a second later it shifts from giddy and smug to horrified, as if some terrible realisation settles in.

 

She swallows. “It was...it was an interesting night.”

 

“Bet it was,” he snaps back.

 

“Problem?” She arches an eyebrow in challenge.

 

“No problem, not at all.” He gestures towards the lace poking out of her bag. “I'd just prefer you not to spread diseases throughout time and space.”

 

“Diseases?” She has to close her mouth with her thumb and he beams at her with his widest smile, showing an awful lot of teeth.

 

“Yes, diseases Rose Tyler. Nasty thing that is, a disease. You stupid little apes have all kind of diseases in your system and there are so many, admitted, pleasurable ways, of spreading them. Might mutate though, the disease and spread on another planet. Could eradicate an entire civilization.”

 

“Doctor?”

 

“Yes, Rose Tyler?”

 

“Would you stop saying disease?”

 

“I could use the term infection instead, if you like.” The smile feels by now cemented onto his face.

 

“You could use the term Syphilis, Doctor. As an example.” She's able to play that game as well. “That's one of many diseases. Think it was a big deal in the 18th century.”

 

“It still is,” he assures her.

 

“I hope you don't have that then,” she mumbles in irritation.

 

“Why would I?” he asks, faking innocence.

 

“Doctor, you're wasting our time.”

 

“Quite right. We could already be on our way, if some human hadn't decided to come back late.” He turns towards the console, hand already on a lever.

 

“You should always wait five and a half hours,” Rose replies easily and steps next to him, deep into his personal space. “But that's not what I mean. I mean, You. Are. Wasting. O _ur._ Time.”

 

He inhales deeply, braces himself to smell the other man on her skin, in her hair, on the offending garment poking out of her bag. Instead, he smells himself under the terrible soap and the sweaty dampness of her worn clothing.

 

His mouth opens and closes several times, realisation slowly sinks in. “But-but-but...that's not possible,” he whispers to himself.

 

It's a rule he strictly follows - don't cross your own time line. There's another rule - don't look back. A future version of himself must have broken both of them...which means...no...yes...no...he's about to lose her. Looking at her, he tries to figure out what to do with the information. What might happen to him when she's gone? When will she be gone? How much time might they have left? It's a glimpse from the future he should have better not gotten because it makes him want to change his fate. The question isn't if he's going to try, but rather if he'll be able to succeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Crushing my Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanx for RT!
> 
> I love comments, feel free to leave one;)

The TARDIS has one passenger less. How come? Because he did what he does best; he dropped the topic and went for another adventure.

 

It went pear-shaped – and that's an understatement. They landed in a parallel world and Rose, highly frustrated by his current behaviour, wandered off – right into the arms of her not-deceased father.

 

The parallel world being a gingerbread house couldn't be more true than in Rose's case: her father lives, is a billionaire, head of a secret organisation and resides in an estate that truly deserves the name. Only her mother being deceased, recently cyberized, adds some flaws to the picture.

 

Mickey decided to stay in that wonderland of myriad options to look after his grandmother and build a better life. A life without time-travelling aliens and unfaithful blonde ex-girlfriends in it. Well, not that Rose is exactly an unfaithful girlfriend but definitely an ex-girlfriend. She definitely _was_ faithful and loyal towards Mickey; just not in love with him. 

 

That became quite clear when he invited him to come along and Rose lacked her usual enthusiasm entirely.

 

It's hard to admit but Mickey was only been invited as a buffer. Now, that he's gone and after everything that happened, he doesn't know what to say to his crestfallen companion.

 

They are on their way back to the prime universe, to Jackie, Rose's mother. She has to see her, convince herself her mother is still alive and safe from aliens, living a perfectly ordinary life.

 

None of that must have happened. Not Mickey joining them on the ride because of his selfish reasons or being lost to another dimension. Not Rose watching her parallel mother die. Not extending his world-saviour graciousness to another universe. He might be the last of the Time Lords but these duties don't extend to every single, god-damn universe in existence.

 

If his two companions just had stayed in the TARDIS, waiting for her to power back up, there would still three people be aboard. They would not have noticed Vitex-founder Pete Tyler or an army of Cybermen.

 

But stubborn Rose just had to go outside and look at all these bloody pictures of Pete Tyler. He should have known. The girl who grew up without a father just  _must_ be obsessed with the idea of meeting him – and there she ran. Straight into trouble. And with trouble he means the possible end of parallel planet Earth.

 

Something about this other dimension terrifies him more than he is willing to admit. For once, he was truly afraid to lose her. All these options and temptations on this other planet, which is somehow the same Earth she comes from, but entirely different, holds the dormant promise to be better. Even if it's not true, there is the possibility that it could be. Mickey proved it and took the bait.

 

She came with him, though. Rose is still following _him_ and he wonders why. He doesn't want her to leave, not at all, but he wonders what he'll become once she's gone. 

 

It's terrifying to know not even a future regeneration will be able to stay away from the one woman who made him love travelling again after the horrors of the Time-War.

 

Is there no hope at all? Why, oh why, does he have to be so attached to her? Why can't she just be another mate? One, he'll one day drop off and never look back to. What is it with the girl sitting on his jump-seat in her tight, revealing excuse of a waitress-uniform?

 

He's mesmerized by her body in that uniform. She's sitting there, hugging her legs and sucking her thumb like a lost little girl. She wants to see her mother and she wants her best friend not to be gone where she can never visit him again. She wants to get to know her dad. To summon it up: she wants something stable to hold on to and she wants it right now.

 

He wants her – so much it hurts.

 

He can offer none of the things she needs at the moment. The TARDIS is too weak to go anywhere soon and until she powers up again, they'll be floating in the Vortex.

 

It's awkward being only with Rose on the ship again after travelling with Mickey for so long. Somehow, he's forgotten how to talk to her without the gentle boy being around. He missed it – having her all to himself and she was right; the clock is ticking and he doesn't know how much time he has left with her.

 

As if it matters how much time it is. It's  _not_ enough. 

 

One last try. He'll try one last time to push her away, to make her walk out of the insanity he calls his life. It would be _so_ much easier if she'd just decide to leave him behind.

 

They kissed once, in ancient Rome and he sculpted a statue of her from his memory. It was the time when he noticed that he lo...feels very much for her.

 

Afterwards, they met Sarah and Reinette and he tried to make her leave. Because he, the coward, can't leave her. He needs her and therefore it's up to her to be strong – even if he's a millennia old and she only twenty.

 

One more time he'll show her the beast he is inside, hidden in a handsome human-looking body. Underneath the surface he is a self-righteous, self-loathing, embittered mass murderer. Yes, he had his reasons for every single being he condemned to his death but after a millennia the lines between right and wrong, black and white, good and evil all turn to grey.

 

He's the Doctor, keeper of time and guardian of the universe. He keeps the party running but at a high price. _Fucking_ duties of the last Time Lord. Today, he should and could have walked away. The parallel universes are _not_ his business.

 

This is the last time he'll test her. The very last time he'll lash out on her and if she doesn't run? It's time to give in then.

 

“So.” His voice is chipper. “Wandering off again, were we?”

 

“Excuse me?” Rose is startled from her own thoughts.

 

“Don't wander off.” He's talking provokingly slowly, making her feel dumb on purpose again. “It's the rule you constantly keep breaking – never fails to drag us into trouble.”

 

She shifts uncomfortably on the jump seat and her short little skirt rides up, revealing her bare thighs and soft skin. “Are you having a go at me again? If so, I'll go to sleep.”

 

“No.” His voice is cold, mandatory. “We are having this conversation now.”

 

“I am not your little servant,” Rose shots back annoyed.

 

“But you look lovely as a servant,” the Doctor answers gleefully. Though, there is a predatory quality in his voice and eyes when his gaze examines her body.

 

She stares wide-eyed at him. “Is that the reason you're putting me into waitress- and dinner-lady outfits?”

 

“No. It's because that is what you were if not for me,” he spats back and is himself surprised at the cruelty spilling from his mouth. 

 

“If you really think that's true then why don't you drop me off?!” she shouts out. “Hell, if you just want to get rid of me, do it! Just stop treating me like _this_!

 

“I could ask you the same question, Rose Tyler! Why are you keeping up with _me_? Is it for my time-ship? Does the little girl so desperately want her daddy back?” he yells back, gripping the console so hard his knuckles turn white. He's shivering, but it's not rage. It's fear. 

 

“I was curious. I never wanted to stay or intrude _anything_. I wanted to look at my father without watching him getting hit by a bloody car!” Rose retorts, infuriated.

 

“Your curiosity almost got us killed! Mickey actually stayed behind.”

 

“Oh no, mister! You're not blaming this one on me. We did what we _always_ do. We saved the day,” Rose answers haughtily. Her cheeks are flushed crimson from anger, two buttons of the cheap waitress-uniform have popped open and her eyes are blazing. She has never looked more beautiful.

 

“One day, we won't save the day. We'll fail. And this parallel universe was not our responsibility. For once, if I say don't wander off, just stay put!”

 

“But that's what we do! We run through space and time and make it better, fix it.”

 

“How often do I have to tell you? Time can't be rewritten!”

 

“But we do it all the time! To you everything is past and future at the same time. Only when you show up, things start to happen. As long as you've not been there, it's all future,” Rose argues and his eyes go wide in astonishment. She has a point but he shrugs it off the next moment.

 

The Doctor walks over to her and leans down. He's face to face with her, one hand on the backrest, the other next to her waist. “We. Can't. Save. All. People have died, Rose. Don't you see, that _you_ could be next?” Pulling away from her he tugs his hair in frustration.

 

“So that's what this is all about? You're acting like a git so I leave cause I might get killed one day?” Her voice is soft, soothing. Once again, she's giving him the understanding he doesn't deserve.

 

The Doctor leans against one of the coral-struts. Rose gets up, follows him and squeezes his hand. “Doctor..” she starts and her voice cracks. She looks up at him and he can see the tears glistening in her eyes. When she speaks again it's merely a whisper. “Do you really believe it's easier if I just go and leave you alone?”

 

The voice he makes in response is a growl. He spins her around so it's now her back against the strut. He's pinning her there with his lean body. Resting his forehead against hers he asks, “Aren't you scared?”

 

“Not as much as you.”

 

“That's not what I've been expecting to hear.” He smirks.

 

“Then go back to France,” she snaps back, trying to push him away. He's faster though and catches her arms mid-movement. Yanking them upward, pinning them above her head. She's trapped now, completely at his mercy.

 

“I think,” he says thoughtfully, “you're crushing my resolve.” The Doctor's breath is hot upon her face, his lips only inches away from hers, his hips pressed flush. “Tell me to stop, please.” He's offering his hearts, his dignity and his sanity. Not, that she not already owned them – his plea is simply for protocol. 

 

“No. No more stopping, no more French mistresses, no more Mickeys and Adams. Just you and me,” Rose answers to his utter disapproval and delight.

 

“Together,” he agrees before he plunders her mouth and yanks the waitress-uniform off her body.

 

There is no going back now, not anymore. Still, it's wrong, so very wrong but the universe offers him so little and takes so much. He wants that, wants her and he's tired. Very tired and very weak and very old.

 

She kisses back with equal vigour, squirms against his grip; she is seeking for friction as desperately as he is. Rational thought leaves his mind entirely when he finally releases her hands and Rose attacks his pants.

 

Their first real time together is not tender; it's a heated, angry shag against a coral-strut but nonetheless expression of their deep love for one another. They both know their time is limited and neither of them has any idea how to change fate; but at least they are done with denying their relationship.

 

Later, they make it to his bedroom and when she dozes off into sleep, he starts pondering, musing over time, future, past and fate. Now, time is still in flux and his future isn't set yet. Professor Smith's future is not yet his own – but it might be, one day. He just has to gain enough information of events to come without knowing as much of his fate that the time-lines become fixed.

 

The task is a tricky one and so far, he has not been very good at escaping his own fate. Staring at the numerous books in his bedroom an idea forms in his head – he'll start keeping a diary to help him remember the original time-line when past or future change.

 

Reading ahead isn't an option – that only cements events but if he could only get a glimpse? Like an index of contents maybe?

 

Disentangling himself from Rose, he scoots out of the bed and heads into the depths of the TARDIS. Hidden at the bottom of the ship lies something he vowed never to use again. Staring at the object, a wooden box decorated with delicate clockwork, he considers breaking that promise.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude goes to my Beta RT!

It's inevitable after having met Kazran Sardick. It doesn't even surprise him that he has to see her now.

 

Abigail, the love of Sardick's life, just reminded him too much of Rose. It was a shock seeing the young girl with her blonde hair and heart-shaped face locked into a cryogenic chamber. She had one day left to live and Sardick had not been able to decide which one it should be.

 

He wouldn't be able to chose either.

 

Always the hypocrite, he forced Sardick to spend his Christmases with him and Abigail until only said last day was left. Of course, a poor consolation was given to the man when he told him that a broken heart was better than no heart at all.

 

Later, alone in his room on the TARDIS, he snorts at the corny line.

 

Another Christmas. Another Christmas without _her_ and it really wouldn't be that bad if not for Abigail and all her parallels to Rose, including the tragic ending.

 

Speaking of tragic endings: he just found a TARDIS-blue envelope, labelled in his own handwriting, ordering him to come to two places.

 

The first is the very same pub he met Rose just a few months earlier, the second place is Lake Silencio in Utah. He sighs. Another self ordering him about, causing a circular paradox on the way, is usually bad news. And if he says bad he means worse than the everyday, usual, possible-destruction-of-a-very-beloved planet trouble.

 

It strikes him that he might really die this time around – no more spare regenerations left; his current face will be the last one. A good face – he'll be a handsome corpse, thank you very much. Well, not that he'll be able to care at this point, but the point still stands and...

 

Right. Back to meeting Rose. He rips himself out of his solemn thoughts and focuses on the pleasurable part of the day. Adjusting his hair he picks out a bow-tie and wonders if Rose prefers green with black dots or burgundy with white swirls. To be honest, he hopes the bow-tie won't stay in place for too long.

 

Leaving his sleeping companions in the safety of the TARDIS, he heads for the pub.

 

It's a Tuesday and the place is almost empty except for some students who don't intend on finishing university soon. Rose and Shareen are sitting in a corner, chatting over some pink cocktails, oblivious to their surroundings. He smiles happily at her sight.

 

There is also a skinny, ginger-haired man in his early thirties sitting at the bar and observing the two girls. He's wearing nothing outstanding – jeans, button-down shirt, vest and a black leather jacket. None of the other guests is paying any particular attention to him and the Doctor wouldn't do so either if the fancy bracelet on the man's arm wouldn't be a vortex-manipulator.

 

The Doctor strolls casually up to him, raising his arm towards the bartender he orders a cuppa and sits down next to him.

 

“Hello, I'm John Smith,” he greets the man with false joviality.

 

Tearing his gaze away from Rose and Shareen, the man turns towards the Doctor and shoots him a scrutinizing look. “You're the Doctor,” he states, taking a bite from his chips.

 

The Doctor rubs his hands in anticipation and grins. “Straight to the point, I like that.”

 

The man shrugs and the Time Lord takes the potential threat in - piercing blue eyes, a prominent nose and slender lips; his physique is lean but muscular and the Doctor assumes military training due to his stiff posture.

 

“I'm afraid I can't stay too long, Doctor. We should part soon,” he tells him with an apologetic smile.

 

“Oh, don't rush. You seem to be enjoying the view,” the Doctor retorts, indicating Rose and Shareen.

 

“She is beautiful,” the man admits, looking at Rose with an unreadable expression.

 

“Is that so?” the Doctor asks curiously.

 

“Yep,” he says, popping his “p”. “She's definitely taken, doesn't even bother to look at any man.” He seems to be the observant type

 

“Still, you keep staring,” the Time Lord points out sceptically and a shadow crosses the other man's face. The Doctor thinks he looks sad, almost desperate, but the expression doesn't last long enough to be sure.

 

“I'm watching a ghost,” he tells him thoughtfully. “Everything happening here is past, gone and never to return again. How do you take it, Time Lord?”

 

“Who are you?” the Doctor asks eventually and the man grins smugly.

 

“I'm John Smith.”

 

“That's not funny. In fact, it's three bus-rides and a cab-drive from funny,” the Doctor chides.

 

“You're one to talk.” John grins. “Doctor Who?”

 

“So – ginger? Doesn't suit you.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

 

“No. And stop staring. It's getting embarrassing. What are you here for?” he huffs in irritation.

 

John reaches for his pocket and fishes out a little key on a golden chain. Handing it over, he's getting ready to leave.

 

“What is this?”

 

“A key,” he replies wisely.

 

“It's not just any key,” he exclaims. “Where did you get this from?”

 

“From you _,_ ” John replies calmly. “It's a TARDIS key,” he adds as an afterthought.

 

“No it isn't,” the Doctor huffs. “What does this thing unlock?!” He is starting to get impatient.

 

“Something I selfishly hope you'll never open. But I already know you will,” John answers and the Doctor is almost sure he sees unshed tears.

 

The Doctor rolls his eyes in annoyance and the man elaborates, “Doctor, I'm giving you this key so you can give it one day to me. You'll know the right time.” He leaves before the Doctor is able to ask another question. Disappearing in a flash of light, the Doctor is left behind tasting Huon particles in the air.

 

“Doctor!” He whirls around to find Rose standing behind him, looking puzzled. “I thought I have seen you at the pub.”

 

Giving her a bright smile he answers, “A precise observation, Rose Tyler! So what have you and me recently been up to?”

 

“Oh – the usual. We wanted to see Elvis and I lost my face. At least no Werewolves this time around.” She gives him her patent grin. “Does your driving ever improve?”

 

“Oh, that one gave me nightmares! Wanted to make up for France and got you stuck in the wire. And I let you know that my driving is impeccable!”

 

He's flipping his hands about. The nervous gesture is a new quirk of this fresh body – he used to shove them into his pockets in the former one. However, he's still pacing. “What are you up for? We could make a quick trip with the TARDIS. Do you remember the ice-cream on Panatolaw IV? Or horse-riding on Equistaria? Well, not that they are horses, far more developed, more sentient. Still, remotely relative, however their muscles...”

 

“Doctor!” Rose interrupts him harshly. “You are rambling.” Her sweet smile shuts him off effectively and he leans down for a tender kiss. Cupping her cheek he whispers, “I've missed you. Had to see you.”

 

Grabbing his other hand, the one that is still drawing air-circles, Rose drags him to a halt. “What happened? You're upset.”

 

“How do you know? You don't know this body yet well.” His eyebrows waggle suggestively. “For all you know I could only be excited, happy, eager, _horny_.” The last word is supposed to send shivers down her spine but only amuses her.

 

Grinning, she's poking his ribs, “I think I'm thoroughly acquainted with that body. Doctor, you're not doing at good job at fooling me. Who was that man? The one you've been talking to?”

 

“Just an old friend.” He makes a dismissive gesture.

 

“Friend? You usually hug them immediately.”

 

“Just the exceptionally good ones. He was more an acquaintance. A run-in, if you want.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I'm always alright, Rose. Right as rain. Though, why rain is right is beyond me. Rain is rather wrong, mostly. Messes up your hair and you get all wet and cold. Have I told you how the rain on Haloc almost ruined my coat?”

 

“Doctor! Please.” She's indignant, the pointless rambling starts scaring her and he guiltily pulls himself together. “I'm here to make up for the last time. How about a proper date? Get changed in the TARDIS cause you and I – we'll be dancing. A suite at the Mandarin Oriental is awaiting us later.” He grins foolishly and Rose shakes her head, trying to figure out what's wrong.

 

She should better ask what's right. He knows his younger self knows by now he's visiting her and thinks about ways of changing the future. Amy and Rory are so adorable with each other it gives him a headache at times (and a pang of jealousy he doesn't want to admit) especially when Amy is dropping subtle and not-so subtle hints about getting himself a girlfriend. And what is that constant flirting with River anyways? He's still not sure if he can trust her and doesn't know what she's up to. Besides, he's almost sure he'll have to marry her, entangle both their time-lines inseparably.

 

He's not ready to do that with another woman than the one standing in front him right now and still, he doesn't tell her.

 

“Really, I'm fine.” Waggling his fingers like so many years ago he pulls Rose along the street towards the TARDIS.

 

“Won't your companions question who I am?” Rose asks timidly.

 

“Na – humans, they sleep their lives away.”

 

She changes into a pale pink silk dress decorated with flowers and birds and puts on golden heels – she looks like the princess she is to him and her smile makes him feel centuries younger and properly giddy. He takes her out on a proper date and doesn't do the drunken giraffe when they are finally on the dance floor. Amy would be infuriated if she knew what a good dancer he can be. It's a matter of the _right_ motivation.

 

Rose's concerns about his earlier behaviour are forgotten for a while and he is content. More than content. He's happy.

 

“Doing domestics with you is not bad,” he tells her, whirling her around to Waltz 2 from Shostakovich and it feels like flying.

 

“As long as we are not having a domestic,” she retorts with her trademark grin and his eyes drop to her chest and further to her hips. Back and forth, back and forth they swing – like he does in her timeline, coming to an halt when the song ends.

 

Rose goes to get herself a glass of Champaign and he does the same. He doesn't drink it though, he just needs something to hold onto.

 

He tells her about Abigail and hands her a handkerchief when he comes to the part when Kazran asked him which day he'd choose to spend with his beloved.

 

“You're really keeping your promise, Doctor.” Her voice is barely audible from tears

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This. You're telling me good-bye. Over and over again. This is a whole new level of knowing that my journey with you ends.”

 

“You knew that already.”

 

“But it's different.”

 

“I suppose it is.” He sighs and wipes his face. When he removes his hand from his face he breaks into a wide grin, full of promises and mischief. “The night has barely started.”

 

“And how many night after this remain for me?” Rose is still anxious.

 

“It isn't over yet. Not for a while.” His eyes are sincere and she fights back the tears. Always so brave, his Rose. Even and especially when he makes it hard on her.

 

“Yeah, but it will.”

 

“But we are here. Right now.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Rose...we don't have to do this. I can leave.”

 

“Don't!”

 

“It's unfair though. I should go.” He doesn't want to but if it's more than she can take he won't torture her again.

 

“No! Don't ever think I'd send you away.”

 

“Any me?” he can't help asking with a small grin. “Even if my next body would be old and fat? Or had only one heart.”

 

“Daft alien,” she huffs. “I l-”

 

“Don't say it. Not yet. Saying these words feels like farewell. We still have time. Trust me.”

 

“You are doing this for me, aren't you?” she asks suddenly and he's startled. The selfish old Time Lord isn't doing this for anyone else but himself, to hold on just a little bit longer. He deserves this, doesn't he?

 

“Why?”

 

“So I know what to do when it ends.”

 

It's a point, he can't deny that but not one that has occurred to him yet but when he thinks about it, it makes sense: it explains her reaction at this godforsaken beach when she kissed his human self with only the slightest hint of hesitation. Is he sealing his own fate by coming back? Would staying away be the key of changing time?


	6. Twisted Fairytale

“It feels a bit like cheating, you know.”

 

“What?” Rose's voice startles him from his musings.

 

“Well, I've told you I'd spend the night with Shareen and here we are, about to enter the Mandarin Oriental.” She glances bashfully through her heavy lashes at the high and mighty Time Lord (the little boy on a date, desperate to be loved).

 

“Same man, remember?” He shrugs her concerns off and fights back the guilt; Rose would see Shareen never again. The devil himself is waiting for her and a boy named Elton who would end up loving a cobblestone (well, he's bonded to a sentient ship). The Olympics 2012 are about to come and afterwards their ways would part for a long time.

 

Before their story would finally end. Once and for all.

 

“This,” she clarifies, stepping through the doors of their luxurious, decadent room for the night. His eyes settle on the gigantic canopy bed. The sheets are made of silk and the high mattress holds filthy promises. “How are we gonna pay for it anyways?”

 

“Psychic paper and my trusty sonic,” he replies with a smug grin and she shakes her head.

 

“Thief,” she grins saucily

 

The Doctor guffaws. “I've saved this planet once or twice and never got paid back, guess I deserve a night with my girl at a posh place.” His eyebrows waggle suggestively. “Now, we had dinner and dancing. We had Champagne and here's a fine suite at our disposal. I assume I went through every state of proper human courting – care to test that bed?”

 

Bursting into a fit of giggles Rose grabs his hand and entwines their fingers – her hand fits still perfectly in his; she's made for him. Back in his last body, he thought it was the other way around but that isn't true. He's always the same man and she's always the same woman; with her he is feeling completion.

 

“Impatient?” she asks amused.

 

“I'm aware of every second that ticks away. Always.”

 

“I know,” her voice is soft, “that's why you keep running.”

 

“Care to make me wanna stop?” What's wrong with him? He's acting like Jack, a proper Captain Innuendo.

 

Rolling her eyes and swatting his arm playfully she answers, “I'd never want you to stop running. Would be like trapping an animal.” She gives him her patent grin. “I don't wanna stop either.”

 

He leans into her side and she smooths the lapels of his jacket and adjusts his bow-tie. It feels domestic and he remembers a time when he had been spoiled with this particular kind of touch every day– when she was with him. It's those small intimate gestures he misses. The intense feeling of being cared for.

 

Gone and replaced by stolen moments.

 

“I like the bow-tie.”

 

“Bow-ties are cool,” he agrees happily. His Rose understands.

 

“You even rock the tweed.” She chuckles.

 

“That's a pity. I hoped you'd want to dispose it.” There it's again, the impatience. He just wants to get her stripped, feel her skin and the joy and bliss which follows her each and every touch.

 

“But keep the bow-tie?” She arches an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

 

“I could be your Chippendale!” he tells her excitedly, noting he refers to himself as “hers”.

 

“Oh my – I have a sense if we'd even try the Slitheen would choose that very moment to invade Earth again.” All of a sudden she's serious, “I think you knew I was with well..you. After the last time.” A blush creeps up her cheeks.

 

“Yes, I do. It makes me fight my future harder.” He smirks but his face falls just a second later. “It's in vain, though.”

 

She frowns. “Didn't you tell me it's dangerous to know your own future?”

 

“I don't know my future. I just know I'll come back for you.”

 

“Bit of a hypocrite, aren't you?”

 

“That I am. And a dedicative liar,” he smirks.

 

“But what if I let something slip? What if I change your life?” Rose is genuinely anxious; not for herself but for him and he _knows_ what he demands from her isn't right; there is no justification despite the fact that he _could_ have some more time. Just another minute.

 

That has to be enough to sanctify his actions – once more.

 

“Well...suppose I'll fade from time and the reapers come to eat up this beautiful universe. Better you don't tell me any details,” he jokes and she pales.

 

“My gawd, I'm having an affair with you.” She's laughing hysterically and he can see it's all that keeps her from breaking down.

 

“Rose, come on. It's alright, I know what I'm doing. Time Lord – me. If I'd really succeed in changing my future, I'd fade out of existence. Those encounters with me would become echoes, dreams. Such things happen – aborted timelines.” He shrugs dismissively and tries to distract her with his new sonic. It doesn't work.

 

“But-”

 

“Rose, stop it!” Bugger, he didn't mean to yell at her. Frustrating stubborn human. Doesn't she realize how much he needs to be with her? Can't she just let him have this illusion of a relationship, domesticity and love?

 

“Half of the time you don't know what you're doing! You're making it up while you go along,” she exclaims.

 

“I'll leave,” he threatens and she finally bites back. It's shameful; it's him who can't let go of her and she knows but indulges him. That's love: letting the other one off the hook, especially when he doesn't deserve it.

 

Cupping his face she plants a soft kiss on his lips. “How could I live with myself if anything would happen to you because of me? I want you safe.”

 

He sighs and tries a light, joking tone. “Believe me, I'd be the happiest person if I'd manage changing my life. My presence here though is proof for another failure. What happens to you and me is set. No matter what I try or do...as long as I'm able to see you my past it past.”

 

“Could it change?” she can't help asking.

 

“If I'm lucky, “ he replies.

 

“But it can't. Because of me...I'm with you. Well, you and you...if you know what I mean.” Rose paces up and down, trying to understand and piece together what she learned so far. She's so brilliant, so much more than him.

 

There's an uncomfortable thought: Rose's timeline is entwined with his own, with his younger self and his presence with her fixes her future as well as his own. His encounters set his past even more but loosen it at the same time. Going back to her truly gives him a head-ache.

 

“Rose, don't worry. I really know what I'm doing.” He winks and she laughs out loud.

 

“Liar!” She sounds equally amused as accusing.

 

“Told ya,” he grins.

 

“That's one hell of a twisted fairytale,” Rose exclaims and she sounds spent. In response he leans down to kiss her knuckles in an old-fashioned way.

 

“I wish you'd realise that my TARDIS isn't a castle but Pandora's box.” The words are spoken to himself but as close as they are with each other she hears him. There's the guilt again: for all the tears she'll cry over him.

 

“What! Why did you say that?” There's an anxiety in her voice he can't place. He isn't even sure she knows the myth about the box which contains all of grief and sorrow – she does,obviously. “There's a box in my dreams, Doctor. All that comes out is death and destruction.” Her eyes widen in shock.

 

Death and destruction in a box – that sums him up, doesn't it? Why she knows about the Pandorica however is beyond him.

 

“Do you really want to know what Pandora's box contains?” he whispers conspiratorially and - oh finally! She shivers and leans into him. He can't help it. He shouldn't tell her about his future – not in such great detail but she's off tonight, fearful, doubtful.

 

“Inside the box is a beautiful girl. With green eyes and red hair. She's sleeping in her prison, guarded by her lover, a Roman soldier. He'll watch over her for two-thousand years until a certain Time Lord comes along and helps him to wake her from her slumber.”

 

“See – a fairytale. Is it true?” Happy, eager, trustful eyes settle on his face.

 

“It is,” he agrees, “and such a beautiful one. It's true. All of it. Happened to Amy and Rory, my current companions.”

 

“Two-thousand years? How's that possible?”

 

“I can't tell you,” he replies apologetically.

 

“And the Time Lord? Where's his princess?” A light and teasing tone – just what he wants to hear.

 

“Right here,” he leans down for a kiss; an effective way to silence her. It's like running – a way to evade the questions and the reality. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that Rose could not have referred to the Pandorica. Despite better knowledge he wishes she doesn't dream about the little wooden box he brought from the Time War.

 

“Is it really possible? Loving someone for two-thousand years? Waiting all this time?” She's staring intently at him, looking for something in his face.

 

“What do you think?” he asks.

 

“I'd wander through all of time and space to get to the one I love.” There's that tongue-touched, bold grin again.

 

“You will.” His mouth snaps shut, he shouldn't have let that slip.

 

He thought it would be easy – putting an entire universe between him and her, letting his human self live out what he desired above all. He really, really wanted her to have her happily ever after, so why is he trying now to give her so many hints and traces? It's infuriating how much he wants to tell her everything. He's grateful she finally gives into his desires and no further talking is required that night.

 

 

 

 


	7. White Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten and Eleven have a little conversation.

She's away with Shareen and all those other friends she soon might never see again. He's thinking about pulling the lever, taking the TARDIS far away and leaving her behind.

 

She isn't safe with him. Even if he may not be looking for trouble (which he is), it never fails to find him. He regards it as his duty as last of the Time Lord's and the curious know-it-all git he is.

 

There's no way he can resist poking the universe with a stick or licking it with his tongue whenever he gets the chance.

 

Some events in history may be fixed, impossible to be rewritten but there's just too much he's free to change, bend to his will.

 

He'd never admit it out loud but he is the closest thing to a God this universe has to offer. Of course he loves to travel but only travelling would be boring. He just has to interfere, to dash in, to make _it_ better – whatever _it_ may be.

 

Sometimes better now means much more pain, loss, grief and destruction later.

 

_Doctor._

 

What doctor could let his patient be? It's his nature to intervene, to meddle, to fiddle. Especially when he should, no, must turn his back and let history take it's course.

 

The possibilities, the changes he can bring never stop to itch. The urge is always there, dragging him forwards, backwards, sideways through the universe and beyond.

 

His intentions are pure, mostly.

 

Rose. His Rose makes that urge only stronger. Seeing history, galaxies, stars and planets through her young, innocent eyes gives him an even wider understanding for the options this universe might have.

 

To make it better.

 

For her. For mankind. For the Slitheen. For the Carrionites. For whomever or whatever.

 

It doesn't matter.

 

_For his own bloody ego._

 

His musings stop when he senses a second humming in his head. Another TARDIS is near, an older TARDIS and he knows instantly why it's here. Whom for.

 

Gritting his teeth and almost snarling like an animal he descends his ship and goes hunting down his older self.

 

Pure, unfiltered rage races through his veins. Rage at his older self and at Rose, who prefers this new form over his current. Isn't he good enough? Pretty enough? He regenerated with her in his mind and hearts, becoming _her_ pretty boy in the process and she goes sneaking off with another model? How dare she?

 

It doesn't take him long to find an abandoned, pouting Shareen. The girl looks very uncomfortable at his sight and he can't blame her: his expression is thunderous.

 

“Hello!” he greets her with false joviality, “do you know where Rose is?”

 

“Uhm – mate,” she answers, avoiding his eyes, “I really don't want to be in the middle of your domestics. Rose left.”

 

“I know!” He beams at her, hoping his grin doesn't take up this slightly unnerving, manic touch. “Smith told me he'd pick her up. Just forgot to mention where exactly.”

 

“Why don't you give her a call?” the girl retorts, still unwilling to give her probably unfaithful friend away.

 

Getting up with a sigh, he exits the pub and instead tries locating Rose's phone. He rejoices inwardly when he finds out that his older self didn't damp the signal and follows it to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

 

How domestic would his future self become? Taking her not to a new world but on a boring, uninspired Earth-date. What will he do next? Settle down on a planet to live in a proper house with carpets, playing spouse?

 

Could he do that actually? Settle down for a while? Take the slow path for a couple of decades until she's d...breaks her promise? A strangled laugh escapes his lips, not even in his own head can he finish what's really bothering him.

 

On the planet Alpahraxys Centurii everyone keeps his feelings closed; expressing your emotions gives others the power to mess with said emotion. It's one of the most wicked weapons in the universe. On the other hand it's the opposite on Botheran where one can inflict his own feelings upon other's by means of...

 

Right. Back to the main issue: Rose.

 

It's not like he's never been stranded before and he did fairly well. Of course he did well. He's a Time Lord, he'd be a brilliant human.

 

Of course that was before the war. Before not only curiosity and good intentions kept him running about. Now, he has to make up for his crimes, has to earn his redemption by saving anyone he can.

 

There are 2.47 billion lives he has taken, wiped out from existence and time itself.

 

His human girl finally steps out of the hotel's doors and he sighs in relief. His head is like a gigantic closet, bits and bobs are tossed together, battling for attention but hardly ever see the daylight. It's rubbish being on his own and his older self steals time with _his_... _Just his._

 

A floppy-haired, young (is he having a mid-life crisis?) man, dressed in tweed of all things (that stuff itches!) and decorated with a ridiculous bow-tie follows closely behind. The couple exchanges a final kiss before Rose heads into the direction of the Powell Estate.

 

“I can feel you, you know,” tweed-man says, staring up at the sky.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?! Crossing your own time-line repeatedly!” the pin-striped Doctor huffs and crosses his arms.

 

“I think, I'm standing in the street, having an argument with myself. Before, I had a pretty amazing date. Did you know, that the Mandarin Oriental offers delicious banana-cupcakes? You should really try them. This body,” he gestures at his former self, arms jerking wildly up and down, “had a bigger craving on them than mine. Make me some good memories.”

 

“Cupcakes?! You're crossing my time-line and now you're discussing cupcakes?” His voice is getting louder, sounding strained and high-pitched.

 

“That's not correct. I was only making a suggestion. It's you, who's getting on about the cupcakes. And to be entirely accurate: I'm crossing Rose's time-line. _You_ were the one looking for a future version of himself.”

 

“It's not as if I fancy putting up with you,” the dark-haired alien scoffs.

 

“Quite right. So, how exactly can I help you? I am you, so I know you are jealous, which is frankly ridiculous. Rose's understanding about our identity is amazing. May I remember you, that we are in fact the same person?”

 

“So she prefers your pretty face?”

 

“Oh, don't give me that. I really had some vanity issues in your body,” the man in the tweed jacket growls impatiently.

 

“Same person?! I'll regenerate into an idiot!” the skinny Doctor barks out.

 

“Oh, don't fool yourself. You don't need to regenerate to get to that point,” the green-eyed man replies casually. “Rose loves us. Any of us. How long did it take her to realise that you are you? We went from grumpy old big ears to skinny pretty boy and she stayed. How many of them stayed through the regeneration with us, hmm? Your stupid vanity will force us to give up on her. It's not the other way around.”

 

“I want you to shove off! Whenever you stuck your nose into my life, I feel time constricting around me. Possibilities die off, choices become impossible. Your mere presence is choking me. You, in my time-line, fixes time. I don't know what is going to happen, but you coming back, makes it impossible to change my future for the better!”

 

“There is no better! The only way to prevent what's coming for her would be leaving her here. But you can't do that, can you? We take what we need and when we're done, we move on. That's us. You'd better start accepting it.” The elder Doctor studies his younger self features wearily. “I know you are looking for clues and you are thinking about using _it_. Leave it and make sure I have some good memories.” Tapping his temples he adds softly, “You know, she doesn't die but she's not ours to keep either.”

 

“I found a hint,” he bites back. “A book from the near future about a nurse called Redfern. Interesting is, that the book has references to my life. It's all a bit fantastic, lacks the greater understanding for time-travel and science, which is to be expected.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts pacing. “But it's not a lie. One page is dedicated to Rose. It briefly retells a love-story and a separation by a wall.”

 

“Pyramus and Thisbe,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “I promise, you'll despise white walls. They'll hunt your dreams. They'll swallow her, swallow time and maybe one day, they'll swallow you. There's nothing we can do. Go on, enjoy it as long as you can and make it worthwhile. It's ending soon. You have no idea, how happy and lucky you are right now. There's so much darkness ahead.”

 

The Doctor with the bow-tie leaves his younger self behind, Satan's pit lies before him and there's nothing he can do about it. Prophesies always relate to fixed points in time; that's the reason knowledge on them leaks through.

 

Another, more selfish reason keeps him from acting, though. He's never ready to die. Never was and never will be. Nor is he ready to fade from existence, to change who and what he is. With a slight hint of remorse he realises that he has stopped wishing to be a human.

 

 

 

 


	8. Impossible

He's on an impossible planet.

 

The only home he ever had in his 900year long existence, is lost. He thought she was a constant in his life – his TARDIS; she's gone.

 

He's on an impossible planet.

 

The planet should have fallen into a black hole a long time ago. It didn't.

He's still alive. She's still alive. There's still some hope left. He rather likes hope.

 

He's on an impossible planet.

 

They talks about a future never to happen. A future including houses and carpets, a picket-fence and a job. He doesn't do domestic. It's boring, it's ordinary, it's...he looks at her and considers having an entirely different adventure.

 

He has duties – it's impossible.

 

He's on an impossible planet.

 

He's falling, falling, falling. Deeper, deeper, deeper...the pit doesn't seem to have a ground. He's falling through a darkness beyond compare. The blackness surrounds him, cocoons him. It's everywhere and everywhen. It always was and is and will be and swallows his entire being. There's no time: no before and no after and no now. He's a mind drifting through nothingness.

 

The fall ends, eventually. Everything ends – but not the Doctor.

 

Not yet.

 

The universe surprises him; that hardly happens nowadays. He's seen to much, travelled too much, lost too much. It hurts, the universe hurts, hurt, keeps hurting, will hurt him, has hurt him...

 

Not today.

 

He's on an impossible planet.

 

The beast in the pit promises she will be ripped from him and he refuses to believe him – he rather believes in _her_. 

 

For once, his faith is not betrayed: he finds his TARDIS, he reunites with her and when they ask him who they are, he tells the truth.

 

“ _The stuff of legends.”_

 

He's back on the TARDIS and his Rose is safely tucked away in her bed – he wishes he could keep her there: hidden in the endless depths of his ship, _forever_.

 

Just like she promised – but he can't, can he? It's _impossible._

 

He hates that word. It has no meaning to him. It only means that he _shouldn't_ do something, _mustn't_ something because if the consequences. It doesn't mean he _can't_.

 

But keeping her would be cruel and it isn't what she agreed to when she naively made her vow of “forever”. There are ways to gain true immortality, though.

 

He killed his own kind, preventing them from gaining this twisted, abhorrent kind of immortality. There are creatures without bodies – only a mind, floating through time and space, unaware of their surroundings as neither time nor space have any meaning to them. They just _are_.

 

She could become one of them – she could stay with him.

 

He firmly pushes the thought away as he gently strokes her bare skin. He really, really likes her body. Touching her, caressing her, feeling her hands in his hair, her lips on his skin is part of the pleasure. It's not something he is willing to give up; unless he has to. He'd rather give up her body than _her_.

 

He knows he doesn't deserve any pleasure – not after what he did. A man who killed billions, doesn't deserve to be loved. And yet, he is being loved. Unconditionally.

 

She would have rather died on that planet than leave him behind and that knowledge fires his ego, his vanity, his pride. The human in his bed won't leave him; he's certain of that now. His Rose (and there is no doubt she is really _his_ ) is not going anywhere.

 

They all came and go, his companions, and they all left at some point in his long life. None of them was willing to stay so adamantly at his side – but she is. She isn't his companion; she's something unique.

 

Despite his infidelity, despite his madness,despite his age, despite his cruelty – she isn't leaving and he started believing her whenever she vows to _stay_.

 

He wants her desperately to keep her promise but he knows she won't. Meeting his future self was the first hint that his days with her are numbered; the beast is the second hint.

 

The prophesy of her death terrifies him.

 

Of course, he doesn't believe in God or the Devil or angels and demons; so one could think he wouldn't pay attention to a simple threat. But there is a difference between a threat and a prophesy and he can tell the beast wasn't lying: it referred to a fixed point in time.

 

Fixed points in time must be evaded at any cost: all attempts of meddling, changing are doomed to fail. The Consequences are devastating at best. Even considering it, is insane. Though, changing fixed points is not impossible; he did it before and the universe didn't cease to exist – barely.

 

There is a device able to change on fixed moment in time. Just one. You have to know _exactly_ which moment is the crucial one – down to a split second, there is absolutely no room for impreciseness.

 

They say the device has a conscience and it operates only when you are given permission. He doesn't know if that's true; it has been dormant ever since it fell into his possession. It's funny he can't recall when, why and where he got it; only knows it was there when the War ended.

 

“Come back to bed,” Rose tells him sleepily. “What are you doing here anyway?” She glances around the messy storage room. The Time Lord is sitting on the floor, eyes trained intently on a dusty wooden box. The rectangular object is decorated with various clockworks and he's trying to figure out it's mechanism. She wipes the dust off the object's surface and sits down on it, too exhausted to stand a moment longer.

 

“Don't sit on that!” he yelps horrified.

 

“Why not?” she asks stubbornly.

 

“It's the most dangerous weapon in the universe – not some bloody seat!”

 

“Yeah? Looks to me as if it serves both purposes just fine,” she snaps back cheekily but obediently stands up. He has a strong sense of deja-vu. Has he ever had a similar conversation?

 

“Are you serious, this is a weapon?” Rose asks, shrugging off her weakness and replacing it with her infinite curiosity.

 

“They said so,” he answers, a bit unsure.

 

“Doesn't feel like a weapon, though,” she comments thoughtfully.

 

“ _Feel_?” His tone is incredulous – he isn't feeling anything around the box.

 

“Yeah, that thing feels just like the TARDIS; a soft buzz in my head as soon as I touch it. It's actually quite nice. I'd say friendly, even,” she smiles reassuringly at him.

 

“I can't feel anything.” That's definitely not jealousy in his voice. “Still, they said it's a weapon.”

 

“They?” She tilts her head.

 

“The Time Lords. This box is supposed to change a fixed point in time. But it's broken, kaput, no functionado,” he sighs wearily.

 

“You'd want to alter time?” She arches her eyebrows suspiciously. The alien stares at her, face an unreadable, stony mask. His eyes are dark and unguarded, baring endless, all-engulfing pain and loss to the young naïve human but she never shies away, holds his gaze. Her face spreads into a huge grin and she giggles. “Like a genie – just, it only grants you one wish.”

 

“I will wish for something then,” he admits so solemnly her laughter dies in her throat.

 

“You said the beast lied,” she tells him confidently and he snorts. “Doctor-,” she says softly, “whatever this is, it's meant to save the universe.”

 

“ _I_ save this universe!” he yells out so loud his voice echoes through the space-ship. “I. I. I. I keep this universe running. I saved it over and over again. You wouldn't even exist if not for me!” He scoots his hands through his thick, luscious hair with such vehemence he almost rips out a strand. “And who saves me? Who?” he trails off and stares at the wall, trying to regain his composure. “I need you and I won't lose you. I can't.” His voice breaks and he looks utterly defeated.

 

“You won't,” she promises and wraps him up in her warm arms.

 

Only three weeks later, Rose is gone.


	9. Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long wait and for the ending of this chapter.  
> It will get better.  
> Really.

He's fine. He's really fine. Mostly. When he doesn't think about it too much.

 

The Doctor has his Ponds. He has River – sometimes. River refuses to travel with him,instead she calls him whenever she needs him and flirts. It's all about tension and mystery and he plays obediently along because time itself demands it. Whenever she says “spoilers” though, he wants to scream and shout in frustration.

 

But they keep the loneliness in check. They are the closest thing to a family he has had in hundreds of years and he has stopped going back in time. Almost a century has passed since he saw Rose – he tells himself it's because he doesn't miss her anymore.

 

It's a lie.

 

He thinks about her every day, wonders if she'd like his Ponds, wonders if she'd be jealous because of River, wonders if she's doing fine, wonders....and restrains himself.

 

It shouldn't hurt anymore. Centuries have passed since their farewell on this bleak beach. He turned his back on her, broke his promise. He told her she was special, told her he wouldn't walk away. Yet, he did – and stayed.

 

Another Doctor in another universe has her at his side, doesn't miss her and has countless memories of an entire life with _her_. 

 

Maybe, they have their own family? Maybe, they only have each other? Maybe, they grew their TARDIS?

 

This man in another universe is him in any way that counts. Only, he'll never have the memories of this regeneration.

 

Sometimes, he wants to snort. The Oncoming Storm, Ka Faraq Gatri is travelling with his parents-in-law and his wife, the woman he married in an aborted time-line cause it was either that or the destruction of the entire universe (it's never less, the price is _always_ the universe).

 

Of course, it's not as normal as it sounds. In fact, it's a parody, this twisted travesty of a family he now calls his own. The daughter is older than the mother, trained to become his assassin but ended up as his lover. The father is a two-thousand year old Roman soldier and the mother is the origin of myths and fairytales like the sleeping beauty and Pandora.

 

The Doctor still doesn't do domestic.

 

The Doctor in another universe does – and he secretly envies him.

 

But it's getting better. There's so much running and world-saving to do and River keeps him busy with her habit of letting herself fall out of space-stations or jumping from high buildings so he can catch her with the TARDIS.

 

Today, all the running is about to stop.

 

River got herself into a bit of trouble during the third World War in 2033 and sent him a message to get her out of a detention camp in London. Being in the middle of a warfare reminds him why he'd choose a Dalek over a bunch of scared humans every day.

 

This war is as bloody, cruel and inhuman as any other. Dragging Amy and Rory along, they witness bloodshed and starving children – he can't change it, it's bound to happen and all he wants is to get out as quickly as possibly, preferably unharmed.

 

The first part, freeing River, works according to the plan. It's when they are heading back to the TARDIS that everything starts getting pear-shaped. According to their captors, Rory resembles a fugitive war criminal and not even the psychic-paper is able to get them out of their misery.

 

Something explodes not far away and the air is filled with dust and dirt. Their captors lose their patience and start shouting. As his vision finally clears, he's staring into outraged eyes, weapons are trained at their heads and River does something exceptionally stupid: she raises her own gun. The laser blaster looks spectacular, but thanks to the fact that it has powered down, it's completely useless. Negotiations become pointless, the men won't listen to him and Amy's hysteric shouts don't particularly help calming down the situation.

 

Geronimo.

 

He's now really going to die – there are no regenerations left. His Ponds, he failed to save them, they will never return home again and it's all his fault. He drags them behind his back, tries to shield them with his body, because he still has hope, he always does. Closing his eyes, he awaits his final seconds.

 

Suddenly, Amy stops screaming, River gasps and he hears the sound of guns clattering to the ground. Forcing his eyes open, he sees their captors lying on the ground; they are still breathing but unconscious.

 

And then he sees _her_. She's standing in the distance, dressed in tight black jeans and a purple leather jacket. Her hair is as golden as it ever was and when she smiles at him...Oh, when she smiles it's as if the sun rises, as if a super-nova explodes and he's given another chance.

 

Rose Tyler is standing in the middle of the dirty street and she's holding that ridiculously large gun (he knows now it only stuns) and she _smiles_. All her perfectly imperfect, slightly too big teeth are visible and her eyes light up.

 

She saves him every time and can only gape at her in disbelief. He's rooted to the spot, frozen and wishes that moment could last forever.

 

When River reaches out for his hand, he jumps into action. Pulling his hand, no, his entire body away from her, he starts pumping his legs the same moment she drops her weapon to the ground. They both start running at full speed and he doesn't know how she does it, but her smile gets wider and wider with each step they take. His hearts are beating so fast as if they want to escape the confinement of his chest, as if they want to reach her before the rest of him does.

 

This time, there is no Dalek who shoots him and she hauls herself into his arms. Finally, she is exactly where she belongs and he encircles her waist naturally and pulls her firmly towards his body. In this moment, he isn't sure he'll ever be able to let go of her again.

 

“Doctor...” Rose's voice breaks as she pulls slightly away to look at his face. Her eyes are filled with pure love and joy. Nobody else has ever looked at him like that and he knows he mirrors her awe-struck expression perfectly. 

 

“Doctor...the stars are going out,” she blurts out and he captures her lips in a bruising kiss, silencing her effectively. 

 

“I know. I know,” he murmurs while holding her so tightly, he must be hurting her. He just can't bring himself to care. She's thin. So much thinner than he remembers and he can feel her ribs through the fabric of her jacket.

 

Her face is crestfallen when he lets her talk again. “I'm too late. Too late in your time-line?” she asks weakly and he can only nod. The pain and disappointment in her gaze takes his breath away.

 

Rocking her softly and holding her as if the universe would rip them apart again any second, he notices something wet on her jacket. When he pulls away, his hands are soaked in blood. Giving him a loop-sided grin, Rose goes limp in his arms and stumbles. “Got shot,” she whispers before she collapses.

 

Picking her up bridal-style, he starts running towards the TARDIS. He barks out a command for River to pick up the gun and to stun everyone who might get in their way.

 

“Sweetie! Who is she? Who is that girl?” River asks and he ignores her, just keeps running.

 

Finally, he can see the bright blue colour of his time-ship and for once, he doesn't have to snap his fingers or look for his key, as the doors open on their own. He doesn't stop in his tracks to the med-bay, only orders River roughly to bring them into the Vortex. When Amy wants to follow him into the med-bay, the doors snap thankfully shut and they are alone.

 

Rose regains her consciousness when he lowers her on the sickbed and stares at him with glassy eyes. “Doctor...” she mumbles while he's rummaging through various drawers.

 

“Rose, that will burn,” he informs her softly, holding up a 57thcentury dermal-regenerator. He starts peeling off the hideous jacket and her face contorts in pain. The bullet went straight through her kidney and hit several arteries on it's way – she lost a big amount of blood. 

 

“Too late...”she responds, shaking her head. 

 

“Oh no,” he contradicts firmly. “I've seen the future and you're going to live!”

 

“Not what I meant,” she gasps out and grits her teeth as the device comes into contact with her flesh.

 

“You'll find me,” he promises while desperately trying to stitch her up.

 

“Found you already, drowned in the Thames. Need to find Donna..” Her eyes flutter and he snaps his fingers and shakes her firmly.

 

“Don't fall asleep! You got to stay awake!” he commands, voice latched with panic. 

 

“...have to find Donna” Rose spits out and contorts her face into something that might or might not be a smile. Her eyes clear as she tries to pull herself together and her voice is almost steady when she talks again. “Will it work?”

 

“Yes. It works. Everything you'll do works. I'll be alright, Donna will be alright...” he trails off as he stares at the monitor he has connected to her body. “Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are, Rose Tyler?” He flashes her a bright grin that doesn't reach his eyes.

 

“You did,” she responds weakly. “But you never...you never told me....when I was standing on that beach and...Doctor, I still love you.” He doesn't answer.

 

Her body tenses slightly as she remembers River talking to the Doctor. “Sweetie? She calls you sweetie?” Rose attempts a playful grin.

 

“Yes, she does.” He avoids her eyes.

 

“Why?”

 

“Cause she thinks she is my wife.”

 

“You're married?!” Rose gasps out in surprise.

 

“It's complicated.”

 

“I bet it is....do you love her?” she asks, genuinely curious and to his utter astonishment, he doesn't notice jealousy in her tone.

 

“Yes, I do.” There is no way he can lie to Rose. 

 

“Ah. And me? Did you ever love me?” she wants to know and this time, he'll give her the honest answer she deserves.

 

“No.” The Doctor holds her gaze as he tells her. There is no shock. Rose merely nods and turns away from him.

 

“Rose.” He's angling her face softly towards him, brushing his fingers along her jaw but she refuses to look at him.

 

“It's mortifying enough, Doctor.”

 

“Rose, listen to me. Look at me,” he pleads and ever so slowly, she turns her head towards him.

 

“Rose, I love a lot of things. Yes, I love River. I love Amy and Rory. I love the rush of excitement when I land on a planet. I love fish-fingers and custard. I love Harry Potter. I love bananas, tweed-jackets and bow-ties. There are a lot of things and people I love. Humans...you're constantly talking about the things you love.” He snorts.

 

“You're not human,” Rose replies.

 

“I'm not. Words have power, Rose. These three little words?” He shakes his head solemnly and carries on, “how can these three little words possibly describe what I feel for you? How?” His eyes are begging her to understand and when he's sure he has her attention, he talks again. “I never told you that I love you, because these three little words are inadequate, insufficient. They. Are. Not. Enough.” 

 

Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispers something and her eyes widen. “Is that...?” she asks incredulously.

 

“It's my name – entwined with yours, spoken in Gallifreyan. When you hear this word again, you'll be sure it's me. Without a doubt.”

 

Her fingers brush along his jaw, he's holding her other hand and something shifts in his face. “Or not. You could stay here, Rose. Stay in the TARDIS. We are in the Vortex. There's no time, no space. You'll never age as long as we stay here. Time doesn't exist. You could just...stay?” He's looking at her hopefully, yet, there's also a trace of insanity.

 

“But you died. I saw you. You drowned,” she whispers.

 

“Yes, and you rewrote time for me,” he answers proudly. 

 

“I have to go back.”

 

“Not necessarily.” He starts pacing and tugging at his bow-tie.

 

“But...”

 

“It's a paradox. If you don't go back to rescue me, time will collapse. The universe would cease to exist. But here? In the Vortex? We wouldn't even notice,” he explains in a calm and steady voice.

 

“You would never let that happen,” Rose exclaims appalled and her breathing hitches. Medical devices start bleeping furiously as her heart starts racing and her entire body shakes and convulses. 

 

He overlooked an internal bleeding during their conversation and now, it's too late. Hands soaked in blood the Doctor has to face the truth:

 

Rose Tyler is dead.

 

 


	10. Schrödinger's Cat

Amy makes a high-pitched, terrified noise when the Doctor emerges from the med-bay. She is standing between her daughter and Rory in the console-room and they all stare wide-eyed at the man coming down the stairs.

 

The Doctor doesn't even look at his companions, just walks past the console towards the jump-seat. There's a mad light glistening in his eyes and he's laughing. It sounds like a roar, this joyless rumbling noise. His hands and clothes are soaked in blood. The blood is everywhere: it's smeared across his chest, it's in his hair, on his pants. And he's still laughing, doubling over with laughter he collapses on the jump-seat and wipes his face, smearing blood across his jaw. Time itself and it's endless options are flooding his mind, memories are fading within his head as he grasps them, tries to hold onto to them, forces them not to vanish.

 

Rose just died and history turns, changes, gets rewritten. She's dead and it's so utterly ironic. He always kept her at arms length. Yes, they were a couple but when she came back, when she crossed the void to reunite with him, he brought her back to this beach he hates so fiercely, intensely so he would never watch her die, so she would never be ripped from his side again. Rose Tyler would never age in his own time-line, would always stay young and alive — yet, her lifeless body is lying in the med-bay.

 

It's hilarious.

 

“Sweetie? Doctor?” River asks tentatively as Rory pulls his wife towards him, stopping her from running to the alien. The Doctor just stares ahead at the wall and keeps laughing. River walks over to him, her body is tensed and she's slightly shaking. There's fear in her eyes when she approaches. He flinches when she touches his shoulder. Shaking him softly, River tries to catch his attention and he couldn't care less right now. Not, when the memory of Rose Tyler's gorgeous smile on an empty street during a Dalek-invasion is being ripped from his mind. 

 

“Doctor,” she starts again, her voice merely a whisper, “what happened?” She swallows and pauses as the Doctor stares at her with ancient, red-rimmed eyes. There's no way he can deny his age at this moment, his features are contorted in pain and River takes a step back. 

 

The laughter finally dies off as he turns his head towards the curly-haired woman. “She died,” he whispers. “She died and the walls of reality will collapse, the universe will burn, will fade from existence. Everything will die. _Everything_.”

 

River gasps and bites her lips. “Why?” she finally manages to ask.

 

A manic grin spreads across his face as he stands up and starts pacing the room. “Because I am a coward. Because the universe decided to punish me. Who knows?” He's tugging his bow-tie until it's loose. Dropping it to the floor, he kicks it away.

 

“Who was she?” Rory steps forward and fixes the Time Lord with a pointed stare, shoving Amy behind his back, he tries to shield her from the insanity the Doctor oozes. 

 

“A complicated event in space and time,” he mumbles as an answer and River is done with his behaviour. Raising her hand, she smacks the Doctor's face forcefully. The sound of the slap echoes loudly in the console-room. 

 

“You want answers, River?” Scooting one hand through his hair while rubbing his face with the other one, the Doctor finally seems to get a hold on himself. Leaning against the console, he takes deep breaths. “You might not like them.”

 

“I don't care.” she replies. “Explain!” 

 

“I've told you about Donna, didn't I?” At that, River nods. “Did I ever tell you why she was called the most important woman?”

 

“Cause she travelled with you after the year that never was, she caught you when the Master died.”

 

“And you believed me?” he answers, genuinely astonished and River shrugs.

 

“You lie, you tell half-truths. I thought there might be more but how could I've been sure?” she tells him bitterly.

 

“Ah. Well. There's more, “ the Doctor smirks. “A parallel universe evolved around Donna. She was the centre of a gigantic temporal shift. Her faith and the faith of the entire universe have been connected just because of one tiny decision. A Donna who never turned to the left at a traffic-light never met me and I drowned in the Thames. That happened 300 years ago in my time-line.” 

 

Swallowing hard River asks, “what has this to do with the girl we just met?”

 

“She was the one who figured it out, forced Donna to change her mind and saved my life. The parallel reality collapsed and became a mere echo, a possibility that never happened. Until now. She just _died_ , River. She'll never find Donna and my younger self will die in the Thames and as soon as we land, I'll fade. I never existed in the first place.”

 

“Why are we still here?” Rory drops in.

 

“We're in the vortex” the Doctor shrugs. “The TARDIS protects us but she can't hold the paradox in balance forever... We never met. Just think it through: I've never travelled with either of you, you never conceived River in the TARDIS. Hell, I'm a dead man for more than 300 years now.” Holding himself upright on the console, the Doctor starts laughing again. Rose's death will lead to his end too. If he would have kept her at his side in the TARDIS, there would have still been the theoretical option for her to return, to mend history. This option would have been enough to shield him. Now, that option is gone too. It doesn't matter. 

 

This universe contains no longer Time Lords, it contains no longer the one woman who matters anything to him. No universe does and slumping down on the floor, he accepts his fate. “I ran away from her, I pushed her aside while I couldn't stop myself from going back, left her behind in a parallel dimension cause I couldn't stand the thought to watch her die and here she died in my arms. Isn't that ironic?” He's wiping his eyes as he bellows out the sentences and his companions stare at him in confusion, unable to understand what he's talking about.

 

“What was her name?” River demands to know. 

 

“Rose. My Rose,” the Doctor utters softly, tears brimming in his eyes. “I lost her and she found me. Again and again. That's our story, chasing each other across time and space.” He gives his companions a watery smile. “Losing her nearly broke me. When she found me for the last time, when we finally could have been together, it was me, who left her behind. I kept her safe, I couldn't stand the thought of ever being separated from her again and...she...” He swallows. “I went back to her younger self, dreamt about changing my past but never...” Staring at his feet he admits, “I could never let her go and I could never decide to be with her. I'm a coward. Always.” Burying his face in his hands he starts sobbing desperately.

 

“You loved her,” his wife whispers and he gives her a sad, lopsided grin.

 

“I gave her up. Disappointed her,” he says, eyes trained intently on the floor.

 

“Yes, you did,” an excited voice chirps out. “But I forgive you. I always do.” Rose Tyler grins at the Doctor with her tongue caught between her death. 

 

The Doctor can only gape at the figure that just appeared out of nowhere in the console-room. “Rose?” he whispers, as his mind tries to process that she's standing in front of him. Where did she come from? She just appeared — out of thin air.

 

Tilting her head, the blond-haired woman considers the question. She's dressed in a tattered white leather-jacket, her pants and shirt are torn, hair matted. “I think that used to be my name. I keep forgetting such things, they lose their meaning.” She shrugs. “You made a mess, Doctor. When she dies, you'll fade from existence and the universe falls. Bleak perspective,” she grins cheekily.

 

“How can you be here? Who are you?” the Time Lord demands to know. 

 

“You received a key,” she responds, ignoring his questions. “You've been told it's a TARDIS-key but you didn't believe it.”

 

“I don't understand...”the Doctor starts but the woman interrupts him. Walking around she starts talking, now and then glancing over at the Doctor to make sure he's listening. She doesn't have to worry, he's practically hanging on her lips, wonder and amazement written across his face.

 

“The key opens a box. Thinking of boxes...Doctor, are you acquainted with the concept of Schrödinger's cat?”

 

When he opens his mouth to answer she waves her hand. “The question was rhetorical. You don't get to talk. So. Schrödinger's cat,” she fixes him with a pointed stare. “Good old Schrödinger was a physicist and he made an experiment I don't really approve of. Yet, it might help fixing our situation.” The rose-shaped figure smiles enthusiastically, jumps onto the console and sits down. Crossing her legs, she leans back and starts playing with her hair.

 

“That's not a seat,” the Doctor blurts out.

 

“Why not? I can sit on it, it's a seat,” she responds and looking at River she adds, “he always says that.”

 

“Always?” he stutters.

 

“So. Schrödinger locked up a cat in a box and then he lead poison inside the box. Eventually, our cat dies. But, we'll never know when the cat dies _exactly_. The animal is shielded from our view so our cat might be alive or dead. The thing is: we don't know! And here comes the crucial point: the cat is _both_. Alive and dead, I mean. For we don't know, both is possible at exactly the same moment in time. Isn't that brilliant? Of course we have to open our box at one point and here's where things start getting tricky.”

 

“I don't understand,” the Doctor mumbles and the girl gives him a look as if he just dribbled on his shirt.

 

“Rose Tyler is the cat in the box. We are still in the vortex and you didn't open your time-ship, our box, yet. We still have options,” she tells him smugly.

 

“No,” the Time Lord replies firmly

 

“You missed one very important point!” the figure who looks like Rose responds with a haughty smile. “The crucial moment didn't happen yet. We all might sit in the box but the cat isn't dead.” 

 

“What?!” the Doctor yelps. “There's no way...I checked...her heart stopped beating, she doesn't breathe, she's...”

 

“Shut up,” she interrupts him playfully. “Death is complicated. Your heart might stop beating but your brain might still be active — or the other way around. Rose Tyler stared into the heart of time itself. There are still remnants of the time-vortex inside her body. These are the same particles that trigger a regeneration within your body when you die, Time Lord. You need to activate them, revive her.”

 

Placing his hands on each side of the girl sitting on the console, the Doctor searches her face for traces of insincerity. Hope plays on his features as he whispers, “how? How do I do it?”

 

“Let her bond with the TARDIS again ,” she replies matter of factly.

 

“And remove the vortex afterwards? Oh, that's brilliant!” Clapping his hands he turns zestfully around and the girl swats his arm.

 

“No! Self-sacrificing git! There's no need for you to commit suicide.” Tugging at the strands of her her hair she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Use your key! The box in your possession, the box you own since the last days of the War — did you ever figure out what it is? It's a TARDIS! She isn't fully grown, her powers won't overwhelm Rose. Her brain is still active, let her bond with the child-TARDIS and her body will be restored!”


	11. Find you Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor struggles with the recent events and their impact on his mind. The next chapter will add a new character: Tentoo-hope you're looking forward to it :)

The Doctor doesn't feel good – and that's an understatement. Memories come and go, he loses track of reality, doesn't know what's real and what's not. His only anchor in this mess of is his mind, is _her_.

 

The girl wearing Rose's face beckons the Doctor to follow her and naturally, he reaches for her hand.

 

“Just an image. Not touch,” she tells him smugly and starts walking through the endless depths of the TARDIS.

 

They aren't alone. River and the Ponds are still with him, still in the console-room but they could be a universe away. He just realises how fleeting his feelings for them are, how they are only a substitute for what he craves, longs for, wants, desires. It's her. It was always her and he let her go. Now, he realises the entire depth of his emotions. Hundreds of years could pass and he would still follow his golden haired girl to the end of the universe. He can't follow her beyond – it's impossible for him but never for her. Impossible doesn't exist in her vocabulary.

 

They stop in front of the med-bay. “Get her,” she orders and he obeys without hesitation. Scooping Rose's lifeless, pale body up in his arms, he walks behind Rose's image through his time-ship until they reach an almost forgotten storage room. He trusts her entirely and therefore, a dead body isn't scary anymore, for he knows, this state is only temporarily. She'll wake up, she won't leave – she promised and unlike him, she keeps her promises. He feels light-headed and a bit out of sync with his own body. At the moment, his actions are being determined by Rose's commands and he's grateful for it, as his brain seems not to function properly. It's a bit like being underwater and the feeling gets worse and worse the longer he's walking through the TARDIS. Something is wrong but it will be fine – he has faith in his girl.

 

Finally, she stops in front of an almost forgotten door near the centre of the TARDIS. It's maddeningly hot and sweat is dripping down his forehead – has Rose always been so heavy? He's exhausted, tired and suddenly, he has the urge to sleep.

 

The door opens on it's own and he recognises the room immediately. The last time he has been here was after his encounter with the devil, and he thinks he can almost see the footsteps of his previous self in the dust. The wooden box is still there, standing proudly in the middle of the room and looking at it, his head hurts. There's a memory waiting for it's time to be unravelled – but not yet. This box holds a part of his past he can't remember and will be part of his future, it pains to be around the item. His skin tingles and prickles – he shouldn't be here.

 

“Put her down,” not-Rose commands and again, he obeys. Obeying is easy – why doesn't he follow commands more often? “Open the box and leave!” she tells him and he pulls out the key he's been given. Staring at the key, he realises he doesn't know why he has it, or whom from. He frowns.

 

“Why do I have this box? Why do I have this key?” he asks with a blank, confused expression on his face.

 

“It's supposed to be,” she answers sadly and gestures for him to put the key into the lock. Stepping forward, his eyes start searching for the lock and the clockworks on the box start turning all at once the closer he gets with the key. The gear-wheels turn in a pattern he isn't able to understand until they stop with a soft click and the keyhole is finally visible. Inserting the key, he feels the metal slightly vibrating and then, the key disappears, engulfed by the keyhole. Dizziness and nausea overwhelm him and he has to steady his body against the wall.

 

“What are you?” he demands to know, grabbing his temples to soothe the splitting head-ache. This room is messing with his time-senses and he starts seeing golden flecks and black spots behind his eyes the longer he stays. Rose lying on the floor – Rose standing next to the box. There are two Roses at the same spot and something clicks into place.

 

“You aren't an image. You're real...” he starts saying, however, the rest of his sentence is lost as he passes out.

 

Waking up, Rose's concerned face swims into sight and he groans. She steadies him as he stands up awkwardly. Hugging her tightly he buries his face in the crock of her neck, “You're alive,” he whispers, chants. “So alive. Rose, what happened? You died..I brought you here...” he trails off as his mind tries processing the recent events but for the life of him – it's all a messed, timey-wimey blur. Right now, nothing makes sense. He remembers her dying in his arms and taking her body here. No, that isn't right. He was talking to her, she told him what to do

 

“Always,” she answers ruefully, stroking his back, easing the tension away. Breathing her in, joy bubbles up in his chest and he steps back to have a look at her face. Rose looks gorgeous with her radiant, creamy, white skin and her full, pink lips. Oh, how he missed her face! Her eyes are shining bright. Too bright – there are tiny, golden spots he never noticed before.

 

Now he realises, they have been in her eyes since he regenerated for her, with her on his mind and in his hearts but caught up in his own change, he was oblivious to hers and the reality of his actions crashes down upon him.

 

“Rose...how old are you?” he asks hesitantly.

 

“Why?”

 

“How long have you been looking for me?” he presses.

 

“Why does it matter?” she snaps back.

 

“Because it does!” he insists.

 

“15 years. Give or take. I've lost track – got no time-sense like you,” Rose replies turning towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” he asks, still confused and terrified she might not come back. “Rose – you didn't age,” he adds distressed.

 

“I noticed,” she tells him dryly and shrugs. “Look at me! I'm covered with blood – and so are you. I'll take a shower and change,” she replies pragmatically.

 

“You died?” the Doctor half asks, half states.

 

“No. I didn't.” Lacing her fingers with his, she starts pulling him away from the unnerving room and the fog lifts from his brain and finally, he remembers. She's from his past, currently doing her dimension jumps, looking for his younger self. But something happened, something that caused havoc to reality and now, everything's fine again. Mostly.

 

She stops in front of their old bedroom and walks straight into the attached bathroom. The room is usually closed, only opens for him – not even River is allowed in here. Flopping down on the bed, terror washes over him. Rose is on her way back to his past, she's almost immortal and still not at his side. Oh, that's just – rich! His eyes widen in horror, as he realises that his younger self will eventually throw his chance of a proper forever with the woman her loves away- once and for all. He can't do this anymore, can't give her up anymore. After all his sacrifices, all he's been through for the sake of others, he wants his reward, wants her. This time, he vows, he won't let her go.

 

Emerging from the bathroom, fully clothed and towelling her blonde hair, Rose gives him her patent grin. Without a second thought, he leans forward and catches the teasing tip of her tongue with his mouth.

 

“We don't have time for this,” she admonishes, pushing him gently away.

 

“We have all the time in the universe,” he lies and Rose shakes her head.

 

“I have to get back. I was so close, I know I'll find Donna soon.”

 

“I don't want you to leave,” he whispers pulling her into his embrace again and starting to unzip her jacket. “Not again – I'm done with pushing you away.”

 

“We've been talking about this before,” Rose replies firmly, untangling herself again, “I have to go – now.”

 

Cupping her face and fighting back the tears, he tries to hold her back again. “Rose – something happened to you. Something I failed to notice. You'll find me but...Rose, we won't be together. Not how it's supposed to be.”

 

Planting a soft kiss to his jaw she nods. “I know.”

 

“I can't lose you again,” he confesses, blocking her path to the door with his body.

 

“Doctor!” Her tone has a slightly threatening quality now. “What's the matter?” She arches an eyebrow at him. “You know I have to leave and find your past self.”

 

“The matter?! The matter?! The matter is that I'm a bloody idiot!” he shouts outraged. “I'll leave you behind in fear of losing you again and here you are – nearly immortal and I'm too blind to see! I'll make the biggest mistake and we'll both pay the price.”

 

“Oh Doctor,” Rose sighs. “Don't do this to me.”

 

“I can't let you walk out of that door. Not again. I'm done with giving you up – I won't do it again. Please, stay,” he half shouts, half pleas.

 

Closing her eyes and sucking in a breath Rose replies, “I'm not leaving you. Not ever. I promised to stay with you through eternity.”

 

“But I won't let you!” he groans in frustration.

 

“Stop it! I'll find you. And if you'll still have me later, I'll find you again. What is this behaviour anyways? You have a _family_ , Doctor!” At that, he averts his eyes in shame. “I'll be there when you need me, I'll find you in your darkest hour. I _promise_! Again and again until we paid our debt to the universe. Until we get our happy end,” she states adamantly. “Now, let me go so I can run back straight to you,” she finishes with a genuine smile.

 

Giving her a mock salute and a watery smile, he finally obeys and gives path to the door. They walk hand in hand to the console-room and she's stroking his hand the entire time.

 

“You don't have look much longer. I'll land the TARDIS at the right place and time,” he tells her, staring intensely at the console. His current companions are dying to ask their questions but his hardened expressions silences them effectively.

 

For once, he manages a soft, spot-on landing. Only to let Rose walk out of his life again – how ironic! At the door, she turns for a last time.

 

“Farewell, my love,” he whispers.

 

“No. Until we meet again,” she corrects him and smiles. “Trust me, Doctor.”

 

“Oh, I do. I always _believe_ in you,” he answers and maybe, just maybe the universe will be so kind as to bring her back to him after all. 

 

 


	12. My Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tentoo is coming into the mix.

He's watching him as he swallows heavily, as his Adam's apple bobs up and down and he knows how much it takes him to hold back the tears. Tears, that will eventually fall once he's alone again – and alone, he'll be. Every second now, he'll lose everything that matters and his home will be so very far away.

 

His heart breaks for him as he continues watching himself. Time-lines dissolve and unravel as his life splits in two, as he tries to draw out the inevitable farewell.

 

The wind carries salt and sand. The salt itches his skin and the sand hurts his eyes as he walks away from her and still standing there, she retreats into the realm of his memory.

 

His home, the only home he ever had, ever found in an entire millennia, will be gone, will be left behind. This time, it's a decision voluntarily made, not forced upon him by a universe that not once seems to pay him back in kind.

 

He travelled too far with her, took her with him despite better knowledge of the dangers waiting along the way and not once did she let him down. And now? He brought her to the journey's end, leaves her behind and gives her up in an act of total, absolute, utter self-sacrifice.

 

He knows it's foolish, knows it's wrong, knows he's regretting the decision the very moment he makes it and the comfort waiting for him is too small in comparison.

 

But maybe it's only fair. Maybe, this is what must have happened. After all, he's only a thief and she was never his to keep. It doesn't matter she let him steal her away. That doesn't make him less guilty or excuses him. He claims to be a moral standard and yet, he started their common life with a crime.

 

He sees him turning his back on her. Watches, as his hand grasps nothing but empty air while he's allowed to stay, while he's allowed to end his journey after all these years.

 

And then, he observes him stepping into a little blue box, leaving his home and heart behind for good while he gets everything he ever yearned and longed for.

 

He is finally at home and it feels like as if he's always been heading for this point, for this beach under a grey sky, all his lives.

 

For a brief moment, he feels panic hitting him with the force of a freight train and his breath hitches in his throat as his chest constricts.

 

She won't understand, he fears. He isn't who he used to be with only one heart and without the blue box. The only possessions he's got now are a pair of red shoes, a brown shirt and a blue suit. He's completely dependant on her. If she decides to leave him standing there, to hand him over to the ones hunting creatures like him (for he knows how utterly exotic and unique he is) or simply walk away, he'll be lost. This new body he's been given is so weak and fragile and only hours ago it didn't even exist so if she decides she doesn't want him...

 

Oh, the power he gave her over his fleeting, little existence!

 

But it doesn't matter anyway, for she owns him, owned him and will own him since he took her hand and urged her to run with him, since he stole her with no intention of ever bringing her back.

 

He wants to tell her, wants to tell her that he's still the man who just turned his back on her but words fail him. How can he tell her that he's the same man who left when he's standing next to her with no intention of ever leaving her again?

 

It's such a small gesture: taking someone's hand. Yet, it's so much more. As she entangles her fingers with his, as her thumb caresses his thumb, he knows there is no need for fear. With a single glance, she chases his anxiety away and confirms that his journey has truly come to an end and that he finally reached his destination. He's at home and it doesn't matter that his home is right now a cold beach.

 

His home always was and always will be at her side.

 

Leaning into her and breathing in her scent, he marvels at the moment, enjoying a completion he never deemed himself capable of.

 

“You really know I'm still me,” he states in awe.

 

“Silly alien,” she snorts, “who else should you be?”

 

“Right,” he answers stepping behind her and encircling her slim waist with his long, lean arms and resting his head on her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he plants a chaste kiss behind her left ear. When she shivers against his body, he's tightening his grip instead of suggesting to leave.

 

After all, he's maybe only given this one moment. Any further journey might rip her from his hands again and he knows, he isn't capable of going through another parting again. He can only fathom what her separation from his other him will do to his other self and a slight tremble rocks his body at the thought.

 

Of course he knows his reason for leaving her behind. Knows, what great coward he is like nobody else. His other self is rather putting an entire universe between him and her before going through the pain of ever losing her again.

 

Therefore, he made the better and the worse deal. Better, because he has her, has a home and can finally be selfish, can embrace this human life he longed for, yearned for since their eyes met for the first time. Worse, because he can still lose her, because this fragile human body of her can still decide to shut down and betray their hopes and dreams.

 

He doesn't know how long they have been standing there, inseparably entwined on this beach he used to hate with all his might. Now, the place seems to be every paradise every holy scripture of every culture ever promised – and more.

 

“I still can't believe you found me,” he whispers happily into her ear as they sway to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

 

“I'll always find you,” she answers. “As long as you'll want me, I'll find you.”

 

“Always want you,” he murmurs, kissing her neck and stroking her belly lovingly. He can barely await the moment when her entire body will be bared to him again. His thumbs are stroking the soft swell of her stomach while his fingers curl around the cusp of her prominent hip-bones. She's so thin and he wonders what might have happened along her way back to him. His movements still, when he's feeling the traces of a tremendous wound under his long fingers and he decides to entangle their hands again. The wound feels awkward under his touch – as if it was still fresh and almost completely healed at the same time.

 

“How did you do it?” he suddenly wants to know.

 

“Do what?” she asks, letting her head loll against his neck.

 

“That thing on Shan-Shen.” He stops swaying and his grip on their clasped hands tightens to the point of pain. “Bad Wolf was written on every surface on the planet – even the TARDIS was covered with these words.”

 

Still in his embrace, she turns to him and for the first time, he's _really_ looking at her. Studying her face intently, he notices the tiny golden spots, shining bright like stars, in her eyes. How ironic! After all, the stars have really gone out, only to rise in an entirely different universe. A universe, forever out of reach for his other self. 

 

He should feel bad for him, should pity him for being such a blind fool, for tossing away this chance. Yet, all he can think is that  _he's_ allowed to keep her. After all the sacrifices he made for the sake of others, isn't it fair to have that? Have  _her_ ? 

 

This time, he's stealing from himself and despite the fact that he's almost drunk from giddiness, it doesn't feel right. Nothing will ever rip her from his grasp again, he'll never lose her again and there's nothing left to fear for she will never wither nor die. 

 

It's him. He will age, he will die and she will have to mourn his death again and when it happens, no decision Donna Noble or any other being in the universe could ever make will be able to change that. 

 

He can spend his life her. She can't spend his life with him and again, the universe is neither fair nor kind.

 

“This is our forever,” she tells him as she kisses the corner of his mouth.

 

“This is _my_ forever,” he replies apologetically.


	13. Storm Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TenII meets the last Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They chapter might be bit confusing but your questions will be answered (hopefully) in the next one.

Hey, hey, hey, there's truth in the thunder  
Love in the lightning, the feeling is frightening  
Yeah, isn't it exciting?  
I'm something like stormy weather  
If I weren't we would never  
Huddle together, do I have to tell you  
That I'm also the sunlight, that shines shortly after?  
I just rain cause I have to, on to another chapter  
I wish you lots of laughter  
Til the next time you see me  
Just remember you need me, I'm the storm coming.

The Doctor can feel his end coming. A storm is approaching, a storm he won't be able to withstand, for the storm is him. 

He has grown old. The Doctor was already old when he met her, when he took her hand for the first time, urging her to run into an uncertain fate. But now, his age shows. He doesn't go by the body of thirty or forty year old man any longer, he goes by the body of an old man. Shoulders slumped, back arched, hair grey he's sitting in his study – and waiting. The blue suit he choose for this body hangs loosely from his haggard frame. 

The Time Lord has run out of time again and he isn't ready to go yet. There's still so much he wants to do. No, that's not right.

He doesn't want to do anything except for staying a little longer. Time seemed to have run through his fingers at double speed now that he's happy and at ease and in love. He doesn't run any longer – why would he? He's exactly where he wants to be and it's not fair. 

He's holding onto the strands of his fleeting human existence with all his might, fighting the oncoming end ferociously. Yet, it's in vain. He can feel himself fading, can feel the candle of his life burning down at alarming speed. 

His forever with her was brilliant, magnificent. Never has he loved so deeply, never has he been loved so unconditionally. It was quite brilliant, this human life – even better than he imagined when he chose to hide from the Family of Blood disguised as a human. And so very short.

So when he's sitting in his study, waiting – he isn't ready. 

He was too serendipitous – such a feeling isn't meant to last, it's only meant to be tasted. Luck exists to heighten the pain when it comes. And pain he knows, this old friend of his that always lurks in the dark, ready to strike, ready to shatter his hearts. 

Night has come at last. Again, it's Christmas and the snow is falling softly, covering the lawn surrounding the Tyler Mansion, enveloping the house in a soft blanket. Jackie, Pete and Tony have left for a holiday the day before, fulfilling Rose's wish to be alone with him before they must bid farewell again. 

They don't know Rose won't be here any longer too when they return. His pink and golden girl – she became so much like him and he is sure it's not a good thing. 

Rose lies now. When she thinks the truth is too painful, she rather tells a lie or leaves out the important facts. And she chooses the universe over her own well-being every time. He on the other hand, can't even tell her a single lie any longer and his view on the universe has changed dramatically. For all he cares, this ungrateful universe can go to hell, burn to cinder and he'd snatch a Vortex Manipulator and go to Marbella in 1989.

But he hasn't a say in events. Well, he had but he made the wrong choices, made all the wrong turns and it's too late now.

The doorbell rings, the sound echoing through the dark, empty mansion. He and Rose are the only inhabitants but he already knows she won't wake up – she hardly ever wakes recently.

Getting up gingerly, he grabs his cane and makes his way to the door. Every step aches, he has to take a rest half-way down the steps but it's okay. His visitor will wait and he isn't in a hurry. Not for this guest.

Opening the door, he reveals a man in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, ginger hair sticking up proudly in all possible directions.

Neither of them smile, they don't shake hands and he isn't offering a cuppa – just leads the red haired man along, back to his study where he can get comfortable and wrap himself up in a blanket.

“So, finally ginger?” the half-human Doctor asks the other man when they are both seated in wing-chairs, legs crossed and warming up next to the fireplace. 

“Couldn't help it,” he shrugs, “it's not if I care any longer.”

Arching an eyebrow the Doctor states, “You're not rude anymore.”

“A few millennia finally managed to humble me.”

They both pause, staring at the flames licking the wood, burning it slowly down to ashes.

“You grew old,” the Doctor in the blue suit says, scrutinizing his counterpart. 

“So did you,” he retorts with wide open, honest eyes. They are of a bright green, emerald colour that should reflect and break the light. Yet, they don't. The burnt out, dead eyes look misplaced in that young face of his.

“Compared to you, I'm still a child,” the Doctor who looks so old and exhausted but still keeps radiating life scoffs. 

“There aren't much creatures left older than me,” he tells him thoughtfully. 

“How long has it been for you?” the Doctor demands to know.

“Since the beach? More than two millennia. I lost track. Doesn't matter anyway,” he replies and shrugs.

“And what matters?” he asks, mouth pressed into a thin line as he glares at the man he will become.

“The end matters.” After a pause he softly says, “You are dying.”

“So are you. But I'm NOT handing her over!” Jumping up with a force he didn't knew he possessed, he yells at this stranger who is him and isn't.

“So you figured it out then?” 

“Of course I did!” he responds infuriated. “I'm unique; the only human-Time Lord meta-crisis in existence. All the memories I used to suppress came crashing back into my weak human body. I'm still you, still me, still the Doctor but I exist outside my own time-line, parallel to it. I could cross it if I wanted.”

“Quite right,” the other Doctor nods.

Slumping back into his seat and burying his face in his hands he starts sobbing without restraint. “Therefore you left me on that beach with her, didn't you? I could have changed our entire existence.”

“We never used to trust ourselves, now did we?”

“No.”

“Still, I've made up my mind. When I left you on that beach in Norway, I gave you a piece of the TARDIS, a coral. Where is she?”

“You can't have her!” the Doctor shouts, smashing his fist into the arm-rest.

The other Doctor wraps his arms around his body. He's speaking to his other self in a calming, soothing voice, as if addressing a child but he doesn't dare looking into his counterparts eyes. “I'm here to piece the puzzle together, to end what she started. It took me hundreds of years to come here. Even after I knew, I kept waiting for another solution. There is none.”

“Oh, there is!” the haggard man in the blue suit contradicts firmly.

“Everything Rose did for us, lead me to this very moment here. I remade my mind once, undid the terrible decision we had to make. Don't! I can't decide else again. I just can't,” he pleads. 

“If there is nothing to decide, why did you came only now?” the Doctor presses.

“I'm the 24th Doctor. My life is ending for good and I won't have to live with this last sin for too long,” he confesses honestly.

“I won't let you do it as long as I live. I'll defend her with my last breath and once I'm done and you get my memories, you won't be able to do it,” the lanky Doctor argues.

“Please, she's dying either way! You and me are too and she did it for us. It was her gift,” he bargains.

“I'm done with choosing the universe over my own luck, over her, over everything!” Rising to his full height, he tries staring his older self down, tries showing him that he's still able to unleash the oncoming storm but his traitorous body has other plans. A coughing fit is rocketing through his body, forcing him back into his seat.

“It all leads back to the Game Station, you know?” the other man says conversationally. “She looked into the TARDIS and saw all possibilities. Yet, she chose this reality. Our girl came back from this place, ran back into our loving arms, knowing full well our “forever” with her would only last a few more years. How long did you have?”

“Not long enough! Cruel Bastard!” the half-Time Lord snaps.

“That's right,” the 24th Doctor nods. “Soooooo, what did she tell you? What did you figure out?”

“The Vortex running through her head changed her. She isn't mortal any longer...Rose is....something unique...” His voice breaks and his lips tremble.

“There's more, my old self. When she made her way back to us, she ran into my 11th self and rescued me and my companions. But something happened: she died.”

“She never told me!”

“That doesn't surprise me,” he says, arching an eyebrow and starting to pace the room as he glances pitifully at his former self. “I had to find a way to save her life. Do you remember the box we kept in the TARDIS since the Time War ended? The one which would never open?”

The half-human Doctor nods, mouth agape as realisation slowly settles in.

“I bonded Rose with a half-grown TARDIS. In doing so, I revived the dormant vortex-particles within her body.” Stopping in his tracks and giving the other Doctor a pointed look he asks, “Tell me – what shape does the TARDIS you grew have?”

“No,” he whispers, face ashen, he presses his fingers towards his mouth. 

“It's a box, isn't it? A big wooden box, decorated with clockworks and covered with a metal-grate?” he presses as the Doctor tends to get up and leave. “I'm right, am I? And what about Rose? Where is she? She sleeps, doesn't she? She hardly ever wakes up, does she?” Crossing the room with three long strides he spins towards his counterpart. Grabbing his wrists he pins him down, holding him in his seat. “You said you also remember what we had to suppress.”

“The Moment,” he mumbles. 

“Yes. Rose became the Moment. Only a TARDIS would have the power to change a fixed point in time.”

“No, no, no,” the other Time Lord murmurs appalled.

“I need your key. Your key for the Moment. I'll send her back in time, deposit her in the Time Vaults. She'll wait there for us until our younger self finds her again.”

“She won't be Rose any longer,” the human Doctor contradicts.

“She's merging with the TARDIS either way. And she's sleeping so much, isn't she? This universe I left you in was never meant to harbour a TARDIS.”

“You want to kill her,” he states horror-stricken.

“She died hundreds of years ago. When she found my 11th self,” he replies sadly.

“Everything to get these stuffy Time Lords and Gallifrey back,” he snorts. “What good did it bring? Am I right they restarted the war? They still fight the Daleks? Still endanger the universe every day?”

“They do.”

“So why should I allow you to save them?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Cause you would have never existed if she would have never made her way back to us. We would have drowned in the Thames in our 10th body. Are you willing to give up all your memories? You would have never existed.”

The Doctor freezes in his seat. Unable to respond he stares into the fire. He's given the impossible choice again. Either undo his entire life or sacrificing the woman his heart holds most dear. 

“But you don't have to do anything, Doctor. We'll just wait here. Your life is ending. All our lives are ending – we are quite done. We just have to wait,” the ginger Doctor says as he snatches a bottle of whiskey from the shelf.

Silently, they wait together for the final storm.


	14. I could help Rose Tyler with her Homework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter!

The universe has so much fun with him and sometimes, sometimes he wants to wallow in self-pity, wants to drown in it, curl into a ball and never wake up again.

 

Like today. Today the universe has a particularly good laugh at him again. It's _not_ funny, he thinks but what he thinks doesn't matter anyway.

 

He's got Clara now. Sweet, obedient Clara, who jumped into his time-stream when he crossed his own time-line and visited his grave on Trenzalore. Not that Trenzalore is really his grave – not that he'd ever clear up that misunderstanding.

 

For once he's got a companion who stays put when he tells her not to wander off, a person who isn't constantly nagging him with personal questions or shoves her nose into his personal stuff. Sweet,  _boring_ , trustworthy Clara. 

 

He owes her, though. The girl crossed his time-line at multiple points and saved his ass plenty of times. She became his personal ghost in the process. Now, he remembers meeting her countless times, remembers her desperate voice.

 

She's always telling him to run, always telling him to remember and always crying. Poor, lost Clara. “I don't know where I am. Doctor, where am I?” The question keeps ringing in his ears and twisting his hearts. She's dying over and over again for him, going through so much, living thousands of lives and always searching for him.

 

Poor, lost Clara. He doesn't love her. That doesn't stop him from flirting. He just can't help it. She's a pretty girl, he's an old, cruel man in the body of a boy and she adores, admires him. It's natural. It's meaningless. He always destroys the one's who are foolish enough to love him.

 

Clara isn't the only ghost in his life. The companions he had for such a long time, Amy and Rory, keep haunting his mind too. He promised to keep them save, to bring them back to their family and look how that turned out. They are locked up in a time-zone even he can't reach. Maybe he could – but he's too broken and battered and tired to try.

 

And of course there's River. River, who believed to be his wife, who chose him over the universe and almost destroyed _everything_ inaltering a fixed point in time. He should have unleashed the Oncoming Storm over her. What he did was worse, though. They lived a life pretending and after all, after more than 300 years, he let her go to the library.

 

He could have saved her. Could have programmed her Vortex Manipulator to send her back into the TARDIS, to Earth, to Raxacoricofallapatorius, _anywhere_. Instead, she's haunting him now.

 

He let her die.

 

He let them all die.

 

The useless, old man finds himself embracing the idea of cruelty more and more. He became a trickster. His hands are soaked with blood. He tricked humans into killing the Silence, he almost shot Kahler-Jex in the town Mercy and he let Solomon die on his space-ship. And River, the ghost, the mind trapped in a computer-programme haunts him. She's always there, whispering into his ears, talking, screaming. She's neither dead nor alive but she's _there_ and that has to be enough.

 

The Doctor isn't a good man anymore.

 

What would his Rose think? His beautiful, compassionate, immortal Rose. She wouldn't approve. Of that, he's sure. Yet, she isn't there. Her soft hands can't pull him back any longer and soothe the pain away.

 

She was better than him. She never chose her own luck but the universe. If he'd meet her today, he'd let every planet burn just to keep her – that's the man he is now. No longer only an Oncoming Storm but a force of nature, a fully grown tornado. The universe shivers and shakes in fear by the mention of his name. Yet, he doesn't dare going back to his goddess Fortuna. She's still out there, his shining golden queen but how can he dare returning to her now that he's so spoiled? Would she forgive him? Would she love the man he's now? He deserves her rejection, he knows it, and therefore he can't go back and beg forgiveness. Yet, he wants to lie at her feet and worship her, beg her to turn him back into a man who is able to stand his reflection in the mirror.

 

Always the coward, he can't. So he's rather sporting silly fezzes, pretending to be harmless, eccentric and young. _Innocence –_ he longs to be innocent again.

 

But he isn't. He became the bringer of darkness and therefore it's maybe fair. The universe is teaching him a lesson again, humbling him by tossing him back into his personal hell and forcing him to relive the most horrible moment of his entire life.

 

The man who used to be a doctor is back on Gallifrey and a war is about to rip all of reality apart. Everything that ever was or ever could be is in danger, falling down, crumbling to dust. Every single life on every single planet is in danger and he wants to laugh, yell, scream and cry at once.

 

He has already been there, already done that. This war is supposed to be over. By pushing a big, red, shiny button he sent 2.47 billion souls into nothing, unwound history, wiped them from their existence.

 

The universe is mocking him. After having spent so much time forgetting this day, shoving it into the darkest corner of his mind, he's back. The universe demands it. He shall push the button again, confirm the crime he committed, this terrible genocide, once again.

 

Maybe that's his punishment: pushing the button of a weapon of mass destruction over and over again, killing them all in an endless-loop. Yet, even this personal hell isn't enough, will never be enough. It's _impossible_ to avenge this major guilt and he craves an absolution that will never be bestowed upon him.

 

Standing there, on a Gallifrey he isn't sure is real or a creation of his mad mind, long lost memories slowly unravel. Weighing his options he comes to the same conclusion over and over again: there is _no_ other way. Either everyone dies or only one planet. The one planet that happens to be his home must fall. After all, the Time Lords became victims of their own megalomania – and didn't he became a glorious example of his own race? He constantly judges other species, intervenes, meddles, fiddles, manipulates time, lives, planets, races. He's like the Time Lords he's about to send into their early graves: a haughty, arrogant, presumptuous arse.

 

He wishes he could fall with them, become a soon to be forgotten memory and retreat to the land of endless sleep. Yet, he already knows that won't happen. He has stolen a weapon of mass destruction, a weapon that developed a mind of it's own and will judge his actions once he's finished. He just wishes he could die.

 

“Than that's your punishment – you live,” a soft, apologetic voice whispers and his head snaps up. He can't see her but there's something. He can spot it from the corner of his eye when his mind starts wandering and his soul is giving into the tiredness and heart-ache. A flash of gold keeps illuminating the darkness, a tiny strand of hope is creeping into his hearts and he wonders where it comes from. He rather likes hope, always did, but today it's not the day for hope. It's the day of doom.

 

“Bad Wolf Girl!” his former self, the battered warrior with the grey hair shouts out gleefully and he flinches as the memory is hitting home at full force.

 

She's here! His Rose is here, holding his hand on the darkest day of his life. She's there, she's really there and he wants to sob in relief. She's like a candle in an endless, starless night and he just wants to run and curl up in her loving embrace.

 

The Goddess herself came from the heavens to mend the universe and the poor Doctor may take a rest. He never believed in anything: in no god or demon, devil or other fake deity the galaxies have to offer. But he believes in _her_ and she has come to save his soul. At least that's what he thinks for a split second. A split second in which is hearts are chanting, buzzing and vibrating from joy.

 

Until he remembers what she forgot. _Her name._ She doesn't know her real name anymore. Doesn't know if she's the Bad Wolf or Rose Tyler or the Moment.

 

And it's ridiculous – it really is. The entire universe is screaming for him to answer the question, to reveal his true name, the walls between the dimensions keep crumbling again and everyone wants to know who he is.

 

Stupid, blind idiots. They should prey to the Goddess for salvation, chant _her_ name instead. She is his match, his other half. Where he brings darkness, she is the light and today, she's proving it again.

 

Back on Gallifrey, he is given this cruel choice and either, he lets his home fall or all of creation. He is given the choice again that made him a cursed man but this time, it's different.

 

Now, he's given a real choice. His Wolf is leading the way through the forest, showing him other ways than the well-worn paths. And there's another, a second option.

 

A big, wooden box in a battered garden-shed on Gallifrey will be his destiny. By pushing the red button, shaped like a rose, a ruby, he'll be condemned – by finding another way, he'll gain salvation.

 

Yet...how is it possible? How can this one moment be relived? How can Rose be here, giving him hope?

 

Staring at the wooden box, he finally, finally understands. His past self is excited. “I could kiss you, Bad Wolf Girl,” he calls out excitedly. His tenth self sputters the words “Bad Wolf” in disbelief and awe and the pain cuts deep through his hearts as he remembers the rush of hope, the promise of a reunion her chosen name brought him.

 

And he? The eleventh Doctor, who in fact is the twelfth, the final incarnation, can only stare back at his past guiltily. Now he knows and he wonders how he could be so damn blind for centuries.

 

What device can change a fixed point in time? How could a supposed weapon of mass destruction develop a mind of it's own and show him an alternate option?

 

The answer is simple. The weapon, the Moment always had a mind – it didn't develop one. He made the weapon himself.

 

Finally he understands what he did when Rose came back to save his life and died in his TARDIS.

 

Now he knows. Back in Norway, on the solemn beach, he gave his human regeneration a TARDIS-coral so he could grow his own time-ship. He left a piece of his beloved ship at a place that was never meant to harbour her. He left his Rose there too, after her mind merged with a TARDIS. Still, the TARDIS grew – never to her full size but enough to manipulate time for once. The little TARDIS would be capable of changing one single _moment_ in time – the very moment now.

 

Now it also makes sense the ginger-haired Doctor, his future incarnation came to see him. He would one day come back to his past, giving his younger self the possibility to save Rose so she could one day save everyone else.

 

It all clicks into place like a puzzle. The Moment grew out of the TARDIS-coral he gave the human Doctor. Rose was always and will always be the Moment's mind. He used the Moment, the other TARDIS to revive the dormant vortex-particle within her body and merged her mind her in the process – with a TARDIS that still didn't exist in her time-line at that point but would soon. One day, he would send the key to the wooden-box to his past and change history.

 

It's so very perfect. The Time War ends differently, the guilt is being lifted from his shoulders, his hands will be clean from all that blood.

 

The Doctor is granted salvation.

 

Still, everything comes at a price though.

 

And the price is her.

 

Her human body would die as her mind would be engulfed by the TARDIS, by the Moment. She would fall asleep and her mind would wander until she would bond with the time-ship for good. And before the TARDIS would die in that parallel dimension, he would come to get her, take her back in time and store her in the time-vaults.

 

One day, his Goddess would wake and answer his prayers. _Today_. So many of his past and future days led to this one day here.

 

Here in this garden-shed Rose shows him how to become a good man again. Yet, it isn't really her anymore, she's a ghost, a memory of the compassionate woman she used to be.

 

Still, even her memory loves him enough to rescue his soul from darkness.

 

What would the universe become when the Time Lords would return? How many would die when the war with the Daleks would start again? How much pain would their hunger for power cause the universe once they'll be back?

 

Can he do it? Save the planet now, knowing billion others would suffer at their recurrence?

 

Pointing his screw-driver at the box he makes up his mind. There's no way he can take that bloodshed upon him again, not when there's another option.

 

There will never be a forever with her now – not like he wishes. The box will find his place in TARDIS, the ninth Doctor will take her and forget until history repeats itself.

 

What stays, are memories and lost chances. They are always there – his ghosts, his mementos and they'll haunt him until his end.

 

The Doctor doesn't push a red button today. He doesn't kill 2.47 billion people – just one.

 

Does that make him a good man again? Is he innocent now? Can he look into the mirror again and bare his face?

 

Scooting his fingers over the Moment, the wooden-box that is still tucked away in his TARDIS, he feels for a split second Rose's mind brush his own, calling out for him and his hearts break. She kept her promise, she never left him, she always was and always will be at his side but it's so _wrong_.

 

Clara is nagging him again, wondering why he isn't happy and bouncy and celebrating the recent turn of events – she doesn't know what it cost him changing his mind.

 

He ignores her as he pushes in the coordinates for the Powell Estate and goes off to bed as he grabs his coat and makes his way over to his past.

 

It's 2002. Rose has just turned sixteen and just broke up with Jimmy Stones. She dropped out of school and doesn't know what to do with her life.

 

She'll become the defender of the Earth, the Goddess of Time and the most important moment in his life. She'll love him and he'll fail her.

 

He knows for so long now that he'll return to her, help her getting back to school – now he knows why.

 

There are a few things on physics he needs to teach her. He'll give her the knowledge to crush through the walls of dimensions, to come back to him after their separation.

 

He used to postpone this final encounter with her, knowing these would be the final times he'd be able to see her before he'd jumble up his and her time-line too much to visit her again.

 

Yet, he isn't visiting for a date. He comes to curse his Rose, to condemn her to her fate, to make sure they'll have their twisted, deviant, deformed “forever”.

 

There are so many ways to kill. You can shoot, stab or strangle a person - or you can put a spell on the one you love.

 

Words have power and never was that saying as true as it is now. Walking over the place to Jackie's home, he feels the uncomfortable presence of the immortal man. Captain Jack Harkness is lurking in the shadows, watching over his girl and keeping her safe from Jimmy.

 

He doesn't know about the gruesome monster coming to get the little Rose and he almost wants to laugh into Jack's face. He's about to turn her into an abomination – Jimmy just took her money and a bit of her dignity.

 

He's about to devour her entire soul, her entire being.

 

As Jackie opens the door and stares at him questioningly he feels like an evil sorcerer, the warlock from fairy tales. And he is. He truly is.

 

His words will condemn her to her fate, history clicks into place and when he's speaking the words, Rose Tyler becomes a ghost.

 

Jackie asks him again. Wants to know what he's here for and he notices he still didn't say a word.

 

Taking a deep breath and scooting his hand through his hair he flashes her a bright smile.

 

“I'm Professor Smith!” he says cheerfully as his soul shatters into a billion pieces and the monster within wins over his hearts. “I think....I'm here to....I thought....I could help Rose Tyler with her homework.”

 

 

 

 


	15. Barcelona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing the circular paradox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ridiculously excited I finished the story :) Please share your opinion with me after reading.

“Does he sing “take me back to the start or back to the stars?” Rose's faint voice startles him as the bed dips under his weight.

 

He needed one last look at her – at her human form, before she dissolves, before she falls apart. Therefore he made his way upstairs, pushed past the weak human Doctor who has no chance of stopping him.

 

“I never looked up the lyrics,” she continues, “I like not knowing – in that case. Both is fine.”

 

“And now you wanna know?” he asks as he lies down next to her and her hand reaches for his soft ginger hair. “Finally ginger,” she states with the ghost of her charming smile, the one with her tongue caught between her teeth.

 

“ _Nobody said it was easy_  
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be so hard  
I'm going back to the...” she stops singing as he entwines their fingers. Her hand still fits perfectly in his. Always did. “And at this part I never know if it's stars or start,” she states, big honey-coloured eyes trained intently on his face.

 

“I wish I could take you back to the start,” he answers ruefully.

 

“But you won't and wouldn't want you to,” she tells him, squeezing his hand and sitting up in the bed. “My head feels like it's on fire,” Rose groans, massaging her temples.

 

“You're dying,” he informs her stony-faced.

 

“It hurts. It burns and I'm cold, I want to sleep all the time,” she murmurs.

 

“I'm sorry,” he answers honestly. “Tell me to stop it and I will,” he adds, ready to accept _every_ answer.

 

“Will it hurt more?” she wants to know.

 

The man who spent 24 lifetimes lying his way across the universe can't find it in him to give her the comfort she needs. “It will hurt endlessly more. You're merging with the TARDIS I gave you to grow. Time will mean nothing to you. A billion years will be a single second, a second will feel like centuries. Everything that ever was or ever could be, everything that never was will happen at once and you'll see it. _Every_ single second of your entire existence – and you'll be _forever_.”

 

“Doctor, I'm scared,” Rose tells him. She's trembling and clutching his hand too tightly but he doesn't mind. What is this little pain compared to the hell she is about to cross?

 

The Moment is here, in this very room. The box stands beside her bed, it's not as big yet as he remembers and doesn't sing to him – hasn't got it's conscience yet.

 

“I could still stop it.”

 

“And go to Marbella in 1989,” she laughs out loud. “I would never do that, Doctor.”

 

They both pause, letting the silence weigh down upon them as they wait. “You grew old,” Rose teases him. Grinning, she bites down on her upper lip.

 

“You never will,” he counters.

 

“Still rude.”

 

“Still me.”

 

“No matter what body you're in, you always look the same. Always the same face, same eyes,” Rose sighs, leaning her head against his chest.

 

“And doesn't it scare you? My true face?”

 

“No. Under all the burning rage there's still a man buried – and I promised to love him.”

 

She can't hold on much longer, falls asleep on his chest.The human Doctor bores his eyes accusingly into him as she does her last breath and the Moment is born. The box flares to live, sizzles and buzzes, calls out for him. He has to establish every psychic wall to shut her out – else her pain will drive him mad in no time. He ignores the other him, just snatches the box from the ground and tucks it in his transdimensional pockets.

 

“I haven't got much time left,” the part Time Lord informs him. “You'll remember every second I spent with her.”

 

“I'm looking forward to it,” he responds, turning to leave.

 

The crime needs to be accomplished and therefore he travels into the past, walks into the Time Vaults and leaves a little wooden box behind for his past self to find it. The circular paradox closes, snaps shut and he feels, just feels destiny closing in on him, crushing his hearts with such a brutality his knees give in.

 

Finally, he's at her altar, saying his prayers and begging absolution. He can't take it – the things he did and never did or the things that were undone. He made all the wrong turns, failed to turn left every time at the crossroads of his life and now, it's too late. And somewhere, in another universe, a man who used to be a Time Lord closes his eyes and finds peace. The human Doctor, the sideways regeneration is no more, and he gets the memories of this life too and the dam breaks.

 

This old, worn down body of his gives in at last as every atom, every cell, every particle within him starts burning, crumbling, falling apart. The Doctor burns and freezes at once, endless options rush through his enormous mind and he tries gripping the fleeting strands of reality and reason.

 

There's joy too. He just kissed her, finally kissed the one he loves and the entity of time is rushing through him. He can see it all – all of reality, everything that ever was or could be, what never must be. He wonders how she could bare it for so long, the weight and true power of time at her fingertips and how she managed to control it when he just hugs his middle and prepares himself to change.

 

There's a reality in which he never met her, just found the corpse of young girl in the basement of Henryk's, wondering who she was. Another one in which she never dropped out of school and married a man so worthy of her it twists his hearts for he can never be that man. A reality in which she left him after France and he moved on, growing colder as the years passed until the merciless stream of time washed away the last remnants of his humanity.

 

Everything about him is changing except for his very core, his essence. His body dies and gets reborn at once and when he'll open his eyes for the next time, they won't be blue anymore but of a colour he doesn't know yet.

 

His future lies still before him. He'll be a brand new man with a brand new life and endless chances. Right now, he can see all the twists and turns he needs to take for a bright and shining future. Standing at this crossroad, one that gives him complete view, he needs, must take his very own turn left. The Doctor and Rose Tyler together in the TARDIS could be the stuff of legends, the Lord and the Goddess of Time about to gain completion and eternal serendipity if he just makes the _right_ turn right now.

 

As all of time rushes through his veins he can see the one strand of history that might lead him to a future that is worth longing for, one in which they'll never get separated and in which he'll never have to sacrifice her yet still gains _everything_.

 

Barcelona.

 

He must take her to Barcelona – the city, not the planet. The encounters with the Sycorax, Sarah Jane and Madame de Pompadour must be postponed or must never happen – either is fine. But he _has_ to take her to Barcelona. Barcelona is the only option for changing their fate.Hopefully, maybe.

 

“Rose Tyler. I was gonna take you to so many places. Barcelona. Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona. You'll love it, fantastic place, they've got dogs with no noses!" he babbles in pain. He's trying to hold onto that thought, _Barcelona._ Take her to Barcelona and he even succeeds though the thought wants to escape his grasp, wants to slip through his fingers and he chases this one idea through a pantheon of options. _Let me make my turn left,_ he prays.

 

When the pain subsides, when he comes back to sense he's still holding that thought, has his grip still tightly wrapped around it. "Hello. OK, mmm. New teeth. That’s weird. So where was I? Oh that’s right… Barcelona," are his first words and he tries so very hard not to forget – the importance of Barcelona.

 

She stares at him with huge, terrified eyes and he knows he won't be able to hold on for much longer, will pass out he just has to...

 

When he wakes up, he's still in the TARDIS, wearing a pair of grey sweat pants and an oversized shirt that smells like her. There's a throbbing ache behind his temples. Forcing his eyes open he looks around.

 

Rose Tyler is there – in all her glory and she's so very alive and beautiful and all pink and yellow and just... _everything_.

 

A cup of tea keeps steaming beside the bed. His voice is horse as he asks where they are.

 

“In the TARDIS,” she responds, arching an eyebrow at him, trying to decide if he's still the man who wore battered black leather jackets and set off to show her the stars.

 

“But we landed,” he mumbles cause he can feel that they are not crushing at reckless speed through the vortex.

 

“We did,” she responds hesitantly.

 

“Did you go outside?”

 

“As if I'd leave you right now,” she huffs.

 

“But you sneaked a peek, didn't you?” he beams brightly at her, wonders if she likes his new face. Maybe he's pretty this time around.

 

“Maybe,” she admits, pulling her shoulders up in a frankly adorable way. “Saw a dog with no nose – guess after all we landed on...”

 

“Barcelona!” he interrupts her, shouting the word with such manic glee she almost jumps. “But now, first things first. Be honest, how do I look?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A comment right now would make my day :)


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